Shatterpoint
by Transformers 0
Summary: The Southern Raiders capture a young waterbender from the Southern Water Tribe. Six years later, her big brother finds the Avatar frozen in an iceberg. One day later, the Exiled Prince captures the Avatar and takes him to the Fire Nation. (The first few chapters are currently being rewritten and revised.)
1. Prologue 1: The Last Waterbender

**Welcome to my second** _ **Avatar**_ **story.**

 **This time it's a much longer and more ambitious one.**

* * *

 **Shatterpoint**

 **Prologue 1: The Last Waterbender**

Her big brother was acting all high and mighty again.

Katara hadn't been around to hear how it started, but she had heard that the older kids hadn't allowed Sokka to join in their games.

Their reasoning? Something about Sokka not being able to tie a proper knot. And… there might have been a few jabs about his major screw-up on his first ever hunt yesterday.

And now, Sokka was fuming, muttering things about how he was "the better warrior".

She had been fine with giving her big brother space to vent, but that notion evaporated when Sokka started ranting about the female members in the older kids' group.

"They're girls, which means that I'm better than them!"

Katara disagreed and showed it by packing a snowball together and lobbing it at her brother's head.

"Oh yeah? You can't beat me!" she challenged, before running off to find cover. And so the siblings' snowball fight began.

* * *

Despite Sokka doing his best to form a small snow barrier over the next half-hour or so, his little sister easily got the better of him. Despite not having any sort of training whatsoever, the fact that the little girl could waterbend gave her the edge in their match.

With rather precise aim for an 8-year-old, Katara managed to headshot her brother. The snowball hit Sokka straight in the center of his face this time, bowling him over as his little sister giggled in glee.

Then the black snow came.

Firebenders were approaching.

"I'm going to find Mom!" said Katara as she started running, as fast as her short legs could carry her.

That left Sokka to find their Dad.

Rushing around the scattering villagers, it was a challenge for Katara not to be accidentally trampled by the taller bodies.

Within a few minutes, though, she had soon arrived at her family's igloo. The little child pushed open the curtain to find her mother on her knees at the mercy of a Fire Nation soldier.

"Mom!"

* * *

Little Sokka was also weaving his way around scattering villagers. The women, children and elderly were running back further inside the village to find shelter, while the men were advancing to the front to fight.

One of them recognized Sokka, and dropped to one knee in front of the boy. It was his father's friend, Bato.

"Sokka, what are you doing here? A battlefield is no place for a child. Go join your mother and sister in the house."

"But I wanna fight!" the boy protested.

But Bato seized him with a stern gaze.

"Go, now!"

That command brokered no argument, and so Sokka turned around to find the way to his house.

* * *

"Just let her go, and I'll give you the information you want!" Kya pleaded, frantically trying to hide the truth, desperate to keep her only daughter safe.

"You heard your mother. Get out of here!" the soldier snarled at the young girl.

Katara flinched, tears of terror welling up in her eyes.

"Mom, I'm scared," her voice came out pitifully small.

Her mother fixed her with brave eyes and a loving smile.

"Go find your dad, sweetie. I'll handle this."

She heard her mother's command, and that was enough to make her follow.

As she sprinted away from their igloo, she bumped into her brother, who was heading the other way.

"Sokka, you've gotta find Dad! I think Mom's in trouble! There's a man in our house!"

"Alright," Sokka replied as he turned back towards the battle, "But stay away from there until Dad and I come back!"

"But I have to help Mom!" Katara protested.

"You can't!" yelled Sokka, clutching his sister's arm when she tried to pull away, "Listen to me for once!"

"I have to, Sokka!"

"No!"

"I _have_ to!"

"NO!"

Katara looked stung, but Sokka continued.

"You can't fight! You're not a warrior! Don't do anything stupid!"

"But I—"

"Stay _away_ from there!" the older brother firmly ordered once more. He ran off, and soon disappeared from view.

But unknown to Sokka, his little sister had chosen to deliberately disobey him.

Katara wouldn't leave her mother. She wouldn't.

* * *

"Now tell me, who is it? Who's the waterbender?"

"There are no waterbenders here. The Fire Nation took them all away a long time ago," the words came out of Kya's mouth steady and strong, even though she knew it was a lie.

What was thought to be the last few waterbenders of the South were taken by the Fire Nation over a decade prior. And then, one day, Katara had been born.

When their infant daughter had first shown signs of bending capabilities during long-winded crying spells, Kya and Hakoda's hearts were burdened with the knowledge that one day their baby could be taken from them forever, if they weren't careful.

Now, with a Fire Nation soldier interrogating her in the confines of her own home, Kya came to the painful realization that she and her husband hadn't been careful enough.

"You're lying," the soldier growled, "My source says there's one waterbender left in the Southern Water Tribe. We're not leaving until we find the waterbender!"

Kya made a decision and steeled herself, ready for her sacrifice.

"If I tell you," she began, closing her eyes, "Do you promise to leave the rest of the village alone?"

The soldier said nothing and narrowed his eyes through his helmet, but nodded.

"It's me," Kya said, finally looking up, "Take me as your prisoner."

The soldier sneered wickedly.

"I'm afraid I'm not taking prisoners today…" he drawled, before flames started sprouting from his hands.

Kya shrank back in fear, though the worst was yet to come.

"No! Mom!" a shrill, squeaky voice cried out.

A small wave of snow extinguished the flames in the firebender's hands, but otherwise did no physical damage at all.

The soldier spun around to find the little girl from earlier, staring dumbfounded at her own handiwork.

"Katara, what have you _done_?!" screeched Kya, maternal instincts and panic seizing her body.

But before the woman could do anything else, the soldier struck first, delivering a vicious punch to Katara's stomach that doubled the little girl over and left her winded, before whipping back around to face the matriarch. His fists ignited again.

"You know," he smirked, "It was brave of you to lie to try and protect your daughter. But alas, your efforts have ultimately proved futile. And now, you shall both pay the price."

The sound of the fire on his hands droned higher, the flames burning brighter until they were a white-blue. Cocking back his arm, the soldier drew in breath, charging up his chi.

Then thrusting his arm out, the soldier shot out lightning from his fingertips.

Kya was struck directly in the heart and went down with a horrific scream.

Still unable to breathe properly, Katara could only let out a weak scream of her own, her pitiful cry intermingling with her mother's. Tears of pain, grief and fear now flowed freely down her cheeks.

The soldier took out a gag and a pair of shackles, and started towards her.

"As for you," he smiled evilly, "You are coming with me."

* * *

"Dad! Dad!"

After flipping a firebender onto the ground, Hakoda spun around to find his 9-year-old son standing on a small ledge.

"Sokka, what are you doing here?!" the chief exclaimed furiously, anger born of worry for his son's safety.

"Katara and Mom are in trouble! There's a soldier in our house!"

The frantic words that had spilled out of his son's mouth made Hakoda's blood freeze.

"No," he whispered, and broke into a run, praying desperately to Tui and La that his wife and daughter were still okay. Still safe. Still alive.

Sokka followed close behind, adrenaline allowing him to keep pace with his father.

But when they brushed past the curtain into their igloo, Hakoda's hopes shattered like fragile ice.

His wife lay dead, her open eyes locked in a vacant gaze, unseeing and unblinking.

And his daughter was bound and gagged at the hands of a Fire Nation soldier.

"Ah, Chief Hakoda, I believe you came here to discuss with me the terms of your unconditional surrender," the soldier stated nonchalantly.

"And just why would I want to do that?" Hakoda snarled, readying himself to charge, to fight to the death to protect his children.

Unfortunately, the leader of the Southern Raiders had anticipated as much and moved to hold a fire dagger millimetres away from Katara's face. The young girl let out a muffled whine through her gag.

"You don't seem to be in much of a position to barter with me, chieftain," the raider continued, "So I am going to make this simple for you. You will have your warriors stand down, and you will let my men depart from your village with no trouble at all. We shall also take your daughter, the last Southern waterbender, with us. Do all of that and no further harm shall come down upon your people today, and your daughter's life shall be spared."

Hakoda's fists clenched in broken rage and helplessness. There was no way to win, no loophole to abuse. He had lost.

Katara was going to pay for his mistakes. Kya had already did.

"Fine," the chieftain said at last, "You win."

"Dad, no!" Sokka cried.

"Son, there is no other way," Hakoda calmly reasoned, doing everything he could not to break, "Now go and tell the men to stand down."

Unable to cope with this turn of events any longer, Sokka fled the house. Following his father's orders was the only thing that his young mind could process right now.

Hakoda turned back to the raider, who flashed him a wicked sneer.

"I'm so glad you could see things my way, chief."

* * *

In the end, the people of the Southern Water Tribe could only stand back and watch as the Fire Nation soldiers marched past, their last waterbender held with the leader of the raiders as a trophy.

"Take a good look at your people one last time, young one," the leader hissed to his captive, "For after today, you shall _never_ see them again."

Katara blinked her eyes in a futile attempt to clear away tears that leaked freely and continuously. She had to commit one last image of her people – her family – to her memory before they disappeared from her sight forever.

As the soldiers walked up the metal steps to the entrance of their ship, Katara's eyes managed to find the people whom she loved most in the world.

Gran-Gran was weeping inconsolably. The supportive arms of the other village elders standing in solidarity with her completely failed in providing her with any comfort.

Dad had made his way to the front of the mass of villagers, his own eyes glinting with unshed tears.

And Sokka, her brother, her _beloved_ big brother – who annoyed her, and teased her, and yet loved her more fiercely than anyone else in the world – tried to break free from their father's grip and chase after her.

But for everyone's safety, Hakoda couldn't let that happen.

Sokka was left futilely reaching out his small arms as the raiders marched up the last few steps and the ship's door began to close, taking his little sister with it.

"Katara! Katara!" he screamed in utter desolation.

Just before the hull door closed, Katara heard the dying echoes of her brother's call.

Then the cold metal door slammed shut.

* * *

 **This story will take inspiration from the best "Katara gets captured by the Fire Nation" AUs and explore the effect that such an event will have on canon.**

 **With canon pairings, of course.**

 **99% of "Katara gets captured by the Fire Nation" stories, even the great ones, have the Zutara tag slapped on them. Ugh.**

 **No thanks. I'm a stickler for the canon pairings, with the opinion that the primary pairing is the greatest OTP romance of all.**

 **Stay tuned for more! Hopefully this project of mine (yeah, I'm trying to plan this out more professionally than my usual fanfics) will be updated monthly.**

 **Or once every 2 months at the latest.**

 **Eh, shrugs guiltily.**

* * *

 **PUBLISHED ON = 02 / 01 / 2019**

 **REWRITTEN ON = 30 / 10 / 2019**


	2. Prologue 2: The Death of Hope

**"Evil begins when you begin to treat people as things."  
— Terry Pratchett**

* * *

 **Prologue 2: The Death of Hope**

Katara was roughly tossed onto the unforgiving metal floor of the ship's brig.

Her prison cell lacked the basic commodities for living, with the exception of a crude, thin straw mat on the floor, which she guessed was for sleeping.

Not that she would be getting much sleep though.

A small team of soldiers filed into her cell. One of them bent down to start loosening her gag. As soon as it came off, she started to wail.

"I wanna go home! I wanna go home!"

A fire punch that came threateningly close to her face shut her up.

"Silence, brat," one of them hissed at her, his voice sounding venomously inhuman through his helmet, "If you want to live, stop your crying and do as we say. And _don't_ try to escape."

As one of the soldiers started unlocking her shackles, Katara feebly nodded, too cowed to protest any further.

When he had finished freeing her hands, she sat up submissively, rubbing her wrists. One of the other soldiers tossed a prison uniform down on the floor in front of her. It consisted of a pair of dark brown pants, and a lighter brown tunic with short sleeves. The uniform looked ragged and worn.

"Now," said the first soldier, "Take off all of your clothes, except your undergarments. Then change into these."

Again, Katara nodded timidly and did as she was told.

She started by taking off her boots and socks. Her parka, knitted by her now-dead mother, was discarded next, though not without pangs of mournful longing and sorrow. Her gloves, undershirt and pants then followed, leaving her little body clothed only in sarashi wrappings.

For reasons that the young girl couldn't entirely fathom yet, she found herself greatly intimidated by the leering looks that the soldiers gave her. So she resolved to put on her prison uniform as fast as her trembling hands could manage.

The fabric of the pants scratched her skin uncomfortably, and the hems were ripped in jagged patterns. The texture of the tunic wasn't much better, and it had several patches in the front and back of its midsection.

When Katara had finished, she looked up at the guards, who had yet to react.

"Um… I'm done," she said, feeling self-conscious.

"Good," the leader replied. He turned to where the girl had piled up her water tribe clothing, and with a spark of flame set them alight.

"No!" shouted Katara, but it was too late. Distraught and frightened, she began to cry loudly again.

Rough hands seized her shoulders and shoved her small body against the metal wall.

"Shut _up_ ," hissed the soldier who had pinned her. None too gently, he yanked out her hair clips and hair ties, eliciting sharp cries of pain from her, and tossed them into the fire, which was now starting to burn out.

He finally released her and she slumped to the ground, overwhelmed by shock and fear.

The leader spoke up again.

"Now go to sleep and tomorrow you shall be given food and water."

With that, he turned to leave. The rest of the guards followed him out and the cell door banged shut.

Katara curled up on the mat, clutched the loose strands of her dishevelled hair, and wept.

* * *

Having cried herself to sleep, Katara was abruptly woken the next morning by harsh banging on the door of her cell.

"Wake up, scum! Your food is here!"

A grate at the bottom of the door slid open, and a food tray was pushed through, scraping horribly against the floor.

Katara cringed at the noise and then made her way over to the tray. She was thirsty, and she was starving.

There was only a slice of bread, and a small cup of water. But at the very least, it was _something_.

The little girl wolfed down the slice of bread and quickly gulped down the water. She soon came to regret rushing through her breakfast when she realized that it would probably be hours before her next meal. The dull ache of hunger in her stomach had lessened, if only for a little while, but she had now noticed that her thirst hadn't been entirely quenched.

There was the sound of harsh banging on her cell door again.

"Put your tray near the slot when you're finished. And hurry up, otherwise I'm coming in to take your food away!" the soldier's voice yelled from the other side.

Katara followed the command and then went back to lying down on the mat. She would daydream the time away.

The slot slid open again and a pair of armoured hands grabbed the tray, before the grate closed once more. But by then, Katara was lost in her memories.

Memories of snow, and ice. Of snowmen and snowball fights.

She and her mother pitted against her big brother and father. All of their excited shrieks and joyful laughter intermingling in a happy, harmonic melody that made the young family forget about the horrors of the war, and gave them escape from the difficult hardships of their lives.

And when they had had their fun, Gran-Gran would call them inside the igloo for dinner. And they would join her and eat happily together.

Homesickness washed over Katara like the ocean's tide and she began to sob again.

* * *

A few minutes later, a soldier came in with a metal bucket, and told her to do nature's business.

Though he threatened to burn her if she tried to bend anything, which left her bewildered.

What exactly could she bend in this place? They only gave her enough water to drink, and…

Oh.

 _Oh yuck._

* * *

Lunch was given to her after several hours.

Another meagre slice of stale bread and another small cup of water that again failed to entirely sate her hunger and thirst.

Dinner was served after an afternoon of periodically alternating between a bored state of mind, and degenerating into tears of uncertainty and heartache.

A slice of bread and a little bit of water. Again. She still ate and drank what was given, taking in a small amount of comfort at the fact that she was still being fed.

Then afterwards, she'd lie down and drift off into more dreams of home. The ever-so-slight rocking of the boat on the ocean was a small comfort that she was grateful to the spirits for. It helped her find sleep a little bit easier.

But she was still a prisoner here. And her dreams would end up transforming into nightmares, resulting in her waking up in the dead of night, screaming and crying until her rapidly beating heart finally accepted the utter hopelessness of her situation.

And then, with her spirit broken, she'd go back to an uneasy sleep.

* * *

That was the pitiful routine that she resigned herself to for the rest of the voyage.

She eventually lost count of the days as they bled into weeks, and when the movement of the boat finally came to a halt, she was sure it had been over a month. Likely much longer than that.

The door gave a clank and slid open.

The same team of soldiers who had settled her in for the voyage entered her cell once more.

The leader approached her first.

"Your wrists will be tied and afterwards you will follow us out. Unless you want to die, _don't_ try anything stupid," he said, yellow eyes glaring down at her.

Katara acknowledged the order with a small nod. Her wrists were tied in front of her, the coarse ropes rubbing against her soft skin. But finally, for the first time since she had been taken on board, she was led out of her cell.

After negotiating a maze of metallic corridors and climbing up several flights of stairs, the group reached the main deck. As they passed through the doors, Katara felt her senses swamped by the intense heat of the tropics. Though her prison rags were threadbare, the pervasiveness of the hot climate almost immediately caused her to start sweating away what very little moisture her body had left.

She swallowed nervously when she remembered that the last time she had drank water was during yesterday's dinner.

The sunlight painfully pierced her eyes. She had been locked away in the cell for weeks, and the only sources of light in that dark metal box were two small flaming torches on the left and right walls, and a small glass window on the door.

The sun had also heated up the metal deck of the ship. Her small legs trembled as her bare feet walked along the hot surface, step by painful step.

Walking down the wooden plank from the ship onto the dock was simply a change of one foul location to the next.

Villagers, pale-skinned and tall, so much unlike her people back home, greeted the Southern Raiders as they returned from their latest expedition.

Then they spotted the little waterbender at the back, being dragged along by the rope like livestock. Their stares turned from curious to merciless.

Jeers from the crowd filled the air, and Katara heard curses and insults levelled at her. She kept her mouth clamped shut, desperate not to cry.

Cruel mercy gave her that wish when the leader of the Southern Raiders barked orders for the villagers to clear a pathway for the soldiers. They were headed on foot to the Fire Nation capital.

* * *

A few hours passed during the trek, during which time the sun rose ever higher in the sky.

During a water break by a small stream, Katara got a little time to herself to silently ponder the irony of how she would've appreciated, for once, to see some thick grey clouds in the crystal blue sky. Back home, stormy grey clouds brought raging blizzards and thick snowfalls, while a clear sky meant a brief respite from the unforgiving cold of the South Pole. In the Fire Nation, clouds would've given her shade against the burning glare of the sun.

Realizing that homesickness was threatening to swamp her mind again, Katara forced herself to brood on something else. Mild stinging on her arms and legs made her eyes wet, and blinking through her tears, she looked upon her recently attained wounds.

Her bare feet were cut, bruised and bleeding from walking along the rough roads. Her knees were scraped and bloodied from the three times that she had tripped and fell along the way. Her wrists had been rubbed raw from the rope tied around them.

She wanted to sleep, to faint, to let unconsciousness whisk her away, but she didn't dare for fear of cruel retribution from the soldiers.

Somewhere from the front, a scout shouted that the capital was within sight, and within a few moments the soldier who held her rope painfully yanked her to her feet and led her away from the shade of the tree where she had been resting.

The pace had quickened. The soldiers were jogging now, and with her smaller body and shorter legs, Katara had to run to keep up. Her heart thumped painfully in her chest, and stitches in her stomach made it nearly impossible for her to breathe. The road had turned into a torturous uphill endeavour.

But mercifully, after a few minutes of agony, they had reached the entrance to the city.

The group slowed to a casual walk, which was another thing that Katara was immensely grateful to the spirits for. It also allowed her to observe the city that lay before her. Or rather, _below_ her.

The Fire Nation Capital was situated inside a huge crater. Gran-Gran had told her tales of how huge cavities in the ground came into being by forming themselves out of extinct volcanoes – huge mountains that could shoot molten earth.

The volcano which housed the city had long since died off, and what had once been a place of origin for destruction now hosted hundreds of people in a thriving environment.

* * *

The citizens of Royal Caldera City had received the news from their Fire Lord.

The Southern Raiders had returned and had brought with them the last waterbender from the South Pole.

To celebrate, the city had been transformed into one big festival ground. Coloured flags, banners and ribbons were strung up on every building. There was a band playing in the town square, and large quantities of the Fire Nation's best cuisine and produce were on sale in the main streets.

It was a lively and exuberant atmosphere.

For most people, anyway.

"Ugh, could this day get any more _boring_?" droned a young girl of 9 years of age. Her ebony black hair was fashioned into a pretty hairstyle for the momentous occasion, though one could tell by the look on her face that she pretty much wasn't enjoying it. Not one bit. Not at all.

"Mai," her mother hissed warningly, "Behave yourself or you shall be skipping lunch during the festival."

"Yes, mother," sighed Mai sadly, frustration also building up in her heart, "Can I go find Ty Lee and the others?"

"Yes, but join your father if he goes looking for you."

That was the answer that Mai had been hoping for.

She found Ty Lee hanging out with Azula, near the Fire Lord's banquet table.

"Hey, whatcha doing?" Mai drawled.

"Mai, it's good to see you!" Ty Lee beamed, skipping over next to her. Azula sidled up to them.

"Greetings, Frown Face," smirked the princess.

"Where's your brother?" sighed Mai, rolling her eyes. She was not in the mood for this. Suddenly, spending time with Zuko sounded like the better option, even if he was a boy and a year older than her.

"Off to the side with mother."

Mai muttered her thanks as she slinked past the younger pair of girls.

* * *

After Mai had skulked off, Ty Lee turned innocently to Azula.

"Was it something we said?

"Ah, she'll bounce back."

Not one to dwell on potential negatives, Ty Lee turned her mind to more intriguing matters.

"How soon do you think the Southern Raiders will arrive?"

"I don't know for sure, Ty Lee," Azula responded, yawning for dramatic effect, "The city has already been in a state of excitement for days. I don't know if all the preparation has been worth it for just one water tribe peasant, but if the capture of the savage brings us closer to winning the war, I'm all game for it."

"What do you think she's like?"

"What makes you think it's a _she_ , Ty Lee?"

"Just got this feeling…"

"It could be a he, it could be a she. They could be young, they could be elderly. I don't care. As long as they suffer."

"Okay, sure," Ty Lee smiled.

Sometimes, the easy-going and agreeable nature of her self-proclaimed best friend startled even Azula. Though the little princess quickly shoved the thought to the back of her mind.

 _Obedience from subjects is always desired_ , her father always told her.

* * *

Ty Lee, meanwhile, had sensed a change of atmosphere. Over the past few days, the city had been filled with excited bustle as preparations for the festive occasion had commenced, and it had increased today when news that the Southern Raiders had docked finally reached the capital and the celebration began proper.

But they had still yet to see the waterbender make its appearance.

But something, somewhere in the city, had stirred the crowd's attention, for a hush was beginning to spread amongst the people.

Ty Lee then observed Fire Lord Azulon making his way to his raised seat in the plaza, without a word. Prince Ozai took his place on a seat beside his father's. Azula raced over and Ozai picked her up, settling her comfortably into his lap.

Ty Lee decided to hover close nearby to her friend, so as to get a good view. She stood a few paces away from the prince's chair.

The area around her was beginning to grow quieter, and she could see that people were starting to part off to the sides to make way.

The main show was about to begin.

* * *

"I think the star attraction has arrived," Mai said to Zuko as the quietness of the crowd became increasingly apparent.

"Mom? Can Mai and I go watch from the stairs?" the young prince asked his mother.

"Of course, Zuko," Princess Ursa answered.

Taking Mai by the hand – and not noticing the blush that crept up on her cheeks – Zuko led the way to the stairs near the center of the plaza, where his grandfather's seat was.

There, he observed that his father had already sat down at his place in anticipation, and he spotted Azula making her way over to their sire. Ozai gently picked her up and placed her on his lap, and a feeling of envy bubbled within Zuko's stomach. Thankfully, Mai chatting beside him distracted him from his thoughts.

"Well… where is it?"

"Who?" he asked distractedly.

"The waterbender, duh."

Mai needn't have asked, for soon the last of the people blocking their view parted, and the Southern Raiders' procession marched into the town square. Their live trophy was displayed at the front, the threat of a spear aimed at her back keeping her walking along, though at a meek and timorous pace.

It had become apparent on why the crowds had fallen silent. Most of the citizens had been expecting a fully-fledged and fully-matured waterbending master as a war prize.

Instead they saw a frightened little girl.

 _"She looks to be around Ty Lee and Azula's age, but a bit younger,"_ thought Zuko, nonplussed. Beside him, Mai wasn't quite sure how to react to this revelation either.

Glancing at his mother, who was standing in the midst of the gathering, Zuko saw pity and remorse etched on her features.

He briefly wondered if kidnapping and imprisoning a child was something his nation should take pride in.

The little girl was trying hard to ignore the obtrusive stares that his people were shooting her way. Fearful of looking at anything else, her blue eyes just gazed down at her bare feet, which were caked with dirt and blood. She looked like she was in agony with every step she took, and occasionally she stumbled in pain.

Clad in her ragged prison uniform, she looked downright pathetic.

A part of him, the part of him that Mother cherished and loved so dearly, felt sorry for the poor child. He knew very well what it was like to be a laughingstock to the public. But his Father condemned such thoughts, labelling them as weaknesses. The part of him that his sire cultivated and fostered told him to take pleasure in seeing such a pitiful waste of life being laid low.

This clash of conscience raged inside the young prince's head. The dualities of his parents' philosophies waged war against each other, wearing down his psyche. The moral dilemma unfolding right now threatened to overwhelm him, and he silently wished that his Uncle was here, not off fighting in the war, leading the Siege of Ba Sing Se. Even if it brought his Uncle great honour, Zuko desperately craved for his advice right now.

Before his mind broke with the strain and he did something on instinct that he would come to regret later, Azula decided to take charge.

"Oh, look at the poor little peasant! Wanna _cry_?"

One moment later, the entire assembly of citizens erupted into a noisy hive of contemptuous scorn.

* * *

It was a horrible cacophony of insults, ridicule and mockery.

Katara was sure she'd go deaf. Or insane. Either way, she didn't care.

She just wanted it to stop.

Was it not enough that they had killed her mother?

Was it not enough that they had taken her away from her home?

What else could they possibly gain from humiliating her too?

 _Stop. Stop it! Please, just stop it!_

But they didn't. No matter how hard she wished.

With the spiteful taunts of the unrelenting villagers battering down on her soul, Katara felt like she was turning to clay. Movement in this cruel world of captivity and heartlessness seemed like an unreachable goal, an impossible task.

Only the sharp jab of the spear against the rear of her shoulder made her move her legs on instinct. But she continued on with her wet eyes fixated on the road, unwilling to look up. Her long hair helped somewhat in hiding her shame, loose strands hanging in front of her face.

She was pulled to a stop in front of the Fire Lord's plinth, where he, his family and his closest advisors all sat. She shrank under their withering stares. The worst of it came from a girl who smirked smugly at her. The utter lack of compassion in the girl's dark, golden eyes made Katara shiver.

However, upon closer inspection, she noticed that the mother of the girl – her guess based off the similar features the two shared – looked resigned and haunted. Almost sad, even.

And the older boy standing nearby, he looked confused. Addled. Bewildered at the sight before him. He seemed to pity her, if that was even possible for someone from the Fire Nation. Katara thought that the boy looked like the older brother of the girl who had been sneering at her, and momentarily she thought of Sokka, back home. Her heart ached at the thought. A cold voice spoke up before she had much of a chance to truly dwell on these feelings, though.

"We've seen enough," the Fire Lord said at last, "Take her to the Waterbender Prison."

The soldier holding her rope took the lead again and dragged her along once more. The rest of the Southern Raiders followed in procession.

At least they could leave quietly, it seemed.

But then…

"Enjoy your stay there, peasant!"

The girl was sneering at her again, and the rest of the mob restarted their hollering.

With the horrible, cruel jeers assaulting her hearing once more, Katara was left in grievous disbelief at the sheer heartlessness of the mob, and she lingered for a moment too long.

Her wrists stung sharply as the soldier holding her rope suddenly gave a fierce yank to force her to move again. Unprepared for the sudden jerk, Katara tripped and landed face-down on the rocky, dusty road.

The crowd just roared louder, merciless in their mockery.

With her eyes screwed shut, Katara could only feel the jeering of the horde thundering throughout her body. She could feel the painful, panicked thumping of her frightened heart as a fresh wave of terror crashed down on her. And then the ropes around her wrists had tightened again, and there was a grazing pain on her elbows and knees as she was brutally dragged up to her feet again. There was fresh blood on her arms and legs and face, and her joints now ached and throbbed anew. Her eyes stung with tears of pain and humiliation, and the dust from the road had peppered her face.

She gave a painful sneeze, and the crowd laughed louder still. But even with her vision blurred by her tears, she could feel their withering, burning stares.

Her spirit broken, Katara was grateful that the scornful chorus was indeed deafening. That way, no one could hear her weep.

* * *

 _Just keep walking._

That was the only thing that Katara had the strength left to think about.

They had left the city, and its horrible laughter, far behind hours ago. The sun was low in the pink sky, just about to sink below the horizon.

Katara would've found it beautiful if she weren't so tired and hungry and thirsty. Not to mention the fact that she was still being unwillingly dragged along by a rope, practically dead on her feet, towards whatever prison that awaited her.

She was so exhausted that she barely took notice when they passed by a pair of metal doors and entered a courtyard, which was surrounded by metal walls on all sides.

In front of them lay a steel complex, intimidating and imposing in its sheer size. The building didn't have any windows, and there was the low hum of industrial machinery at work inside.

The prison neither looked nor sounded pleasant.

The warden in charge approached them.

The leader of the Southern Raiders strode to the front and took Katara's rope from his subordinate.

"Warden Eiji," the raider greeted, "I bring you a gift. The crippling blow to the Southern Water Tribe. Their last waterbender."

"Thank you, commander. My men and I will take a lot of pleasure out of her detainment," said the warden, taking the rope from the raider's hand. The commander turned back to his troops to address them.

"Alright men, let's move out. Our work here is done."

The raiders followed their commanding officer out of the prison courtyard, though not without hurling some final insults towards their trophy.

Katara just stared down at her toes, utterly demoralized by now.

The warden suddenly turned, and she was sharply yanked along by her rope again. She groaned, stumbling a little, her bare feet stinging on the sharp, rocky ground.

They entered the prison complex, and Katara's eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness. The only source of light in the building came from grates in the ceiling high above, and the temperature had doubled. The sudden heat wave made Katara nauseous, though she was too dehydrated at this point to even vomit.

Eventually they came to a large chamber that was filled with rows of metal cages. The cages were suspended high off the ground by chains attached to the ceiling.

They walked down the aisles in between the rows. Though she already felt sick the moment she stepped in the building, what gave Katara a horrible, sinking feeling was that all the cages she had seen so far were empty. The prison was so vast and huge, and she was so small and insignificant in comparison that her feelings of loneliness and isolation were heightened substantially.

After a short while, they finally approached a section of the prison that was inhabited by people. Three rows of cages held prisoners within them. Each row had ten cages. One row was filled up completely, the second row had all but one cage filled, while the third row had five of its cages occupied.

There were two dozen prisoners in total. Adding her, that total came up to twenty-five.

Twenty-five was already a large number. That was a considerable amount of waterbenders. And yet, they were nothing compared to the vastness of the prison.

Altogether, they wouldn't even fill up half the amount of cages she had seen on her way here.

Katara remembered all the stories that her Gran-Gran would tell her about how the Fire Nation had captured all the other waterbenders of their tribe long ago. She suddenly realized that she was looking at the remnants of that particular persecution.

Despite the intense heat, a chill ran down her spine at the revelation.

The warden came to a stop in between two rows. On the left was the first and the only full row. On the right was the row with one empty cage.

They had all noticed her by now. Their awareness and perception had been sluggish and lethargic, but as she focused on studying the faces of her brethren, they were now busying themselves with gazing upon the unfortunate newcomer.

An old man inhabited the first cage on the left row. After spotting her and noticing her age, he closed his eyes and lowered his head, his long and knotted hair falling in front of his face.

An old woman was imprisoned in the second cage on the right, behind the empty one. A look of horror ghosted her face, before despair sagged over her aged features and she too bowed her head, closing her eyes.

While there were several other elders, most of the prisoners were around her father's age. There were sighs of resignation and sadness, and some curled into themselves.

But other than a few small reactions here and there, they all just stared emptily at her, their eyes barren and soulless.

Katara just stood numbly herself, not trying to escape even as the warden started cutting through the bonds on her wrists. She had long since learned that obedience would be the only thing that would keep her alive.

Once the ropes were cut, the warden unlocked the first cage on the right row. His hands roughly seized her by the waist, and he yanked her small body off the ground, hurling her onto the floor of the cage. She yelped at the impact.

"Enjoy your stay here, child," he snarled in a low voice, his eyes alight with cruel pleasure, "For you will never see the outside world again."

Still sprawled on her side, immobilized by pain, Katara could only watch tearfully as the warden slammed the cage door shut.

There was a loud clang, and her soul, already broken, finally shattered.

* * *

 **And now for some symbolic trivia.**

 **It won't be obvious just from description, but the cage that Katara is locked in is the same one where Hama was kept prisoner long ago.**

 **And Azula. Sadistic, little Azula.**

 **I'm definitely building up a more prominent rivalry between Katara and Azula in this universe.**

 **The many parallels between those two in canon has always intrigued me. Now I've got the chance to explore their dynamic to a much greater degree here.**

 **This chapter was just the beginning!**

* * *

 **PUBLISHED ON = 15 / 01 / 2019**

 **REWRITTEN ON = 10 / 11 / 2019**


	3. The Boy in the Iceberg

**"One often meets his destiny on the road he takes to avoid it."  
– Master Oogway, _Kung Fu Panda_**

* * *

 **ARC 1: Fire**

 **The Boy in the Iceberg**

 _Water. Earth. Fire. Air._

 _Our world was once a peaceful place. Nature was respected, and life flourished everywhere._

 _The four nations all lived together in harmony._

 _Then one hundred years ago, the Fire Nation attacked._

 _The Air Nomads lived in sacred temples around the world. Every one of them was said to be blessed with the ability to bend their native element. Because of this, they were known to be highly spiritual and respectful. And yet, they were also fun-loving. At least, that's what I've heard about them in folk tales from my elders, and from visitors to my tribe._

 _I will never know for sure what they were like. And I can't ask them personally, because the first assaults from the Fire Nation wiped the Air Nomads off the face of the Earth._

 _Before the war, the Fire Nation kept to themselves on their volcanic islands. It was said that once upon a time, they were known for spreading joy._

 _Imagine that. That the people of the Fire Nation were once charming, energetic, and full of charisma and passion for life._

 _Yeah, right. Maybe. Once upon a time._

 _Now, they've nearly conquered the entire world, subjugating countless people, and killing those who dare to stand in their way._

 _The people of the Earth Kingdom lived off the land. They were sturdy, dependable, and widespread, flourishing from their direct connection with the Earth. Though they're not nearly as intimate and amicable as my people, the citizens of the Earth Kingdom are known for their helpfulness and loyalty. One thing they all have in common is an unbreakable spirit._

 _The war with the Fire Nation has hit them hard. But at least they're strong enough to take it. For now._

 _That's more than can be said for us._

 _The Water Tribes inhabited the poles. Surrounded by ice and snow, we could only depend on each other. We're a close-knit group, and we're mindful of the needs of one another. We survived by looking out for every member in our community. With rugged determination, we thrived off the boons of the sea. Even though we were isolated at the icy edges of the world, we were happy and content with our lives._

 _When the Fire Nation set their sights on us, they went about trying to conquer us by taking away our waterbenders. My grandmother was around to see their first attacks. She witnessed the capture of many family members and friends._

 _Though they were left ravaged and devastated, my grandmother's generation valiantly withstood the first attacks. Another generation emerged, and grew up in relative peace, untouched and unharmed for several years._

 _Then the second wave of Fire Nation raids began. As non-benders, my mother and father were lucky enough to survive this perilous period unscathed._

 _But there was a higher price to pay this time. All of our tribe's waterbenders were taken. Only the non-benders were left. Everyone who had survived had lost a loved one._

 _For a long while, what was left of my parents' generation resigned themselves to their failure. It seemed that our tribe's fate was to lose our inherent culture._

 _Then my generation came along, and my little sister was born._

 _During her infancy, my sister was discovered to be a waterbender. There was great joy and jubilation throughout my tribe. In the years following my sister's birth, the tribe took great care in protecting our sacred and precious secret._

 _Our efforts were still all for naught._

 _The Fire Nation attacked again, one last time. They were looking for the very last waterbender. And they succeeded._

 _My mother died in vain, murdered in cold blood by the Fire Nation. To make it worse, her sacrifice was for nothing._

 _I let my sister be taken._

 _Now all of our waterbenders really are gone._

 _We've never heard a word from the North Pole in many years. They've either been wiped out, or they cannot help us. Or won't._

 _Two years ago, my father and the men of my tribe left to fight in the war, leaving me to look after the tribe. There had been rumours and reports of the Fire Nation gaining the upper hand against the Earth Kingdom._

 _That's discouraging._

 _The war is in a critical and desperate stage right now. We're losing, plain and simple._

 _The Avatar, the master of all the elements, and the only one who can stop the Fire Nation, is missing. It was said that he vanished before the war even began. Or that the Fire Nation had broken the cycle when they massacred the Air Nomads._

 _Regardless of how it happened, it doesn't matter._

 _Without the Avatar, we don't stand a chance._

 _The Air Nomads are extinct, the Water Tribes are facing extinction, and the Earth Kingdom is slowly crumbling._

 _We're finished._

 _All of our hope is gone._

* * *

Today wasn't a good day for Sokka.

Actually, he had never had a good day in years.

A quiet day, normally. A tranquil day, at best. But never a _good_ day.

He had caught a substantial catch of fish for everyone back at the village – well, he believed it to be enough, hoped it would be enough – but getting back home was proving to be arduous.

Especially since his canoe had suddenly just found itself being pulled along at the mercy of a rapid current.

The boy jabbed his oar frantically into the swelling tide, his instincts and emotions degenerating into near-hysteria as his small boat entered an ice field.

Now, he wasn't fond of magic, or waterbending, or just bending in general – but at times like these, Sokka really wished he could manipulate his surroundings. And he wished that _she_ was still here.

With the rugged skill of a mariner, built up by years of harsh experience, he managed to steer his canoe so as to narrowly avoid several ice floes.

But the current was still taking him along unwillingly. His canoe had been sucked in between two large glaciers, and the narrowing waterway made it increasingly difficult to avoid further hazards.

A medium-sized chunk of floating ice seemingly came out of nowhere and knocked the oar from his hands. With nothing to steer his boat, he was at the mercy of the polar ocean.

"Crap, crap, crap, crap!" he cursed as several more chunks of ice rattled his vessel, spinning it around in wild rotations. The boat was listing so hard from side to side that Sokka found it miraculously amazing that he hadn't been thrown clear yet.

What he saw next made him grit his teeth in horrified consternation. Two huge ice floes loomed ahead, the distance between them rapidly closing. The outcome was inevitable. His canoe would be crushed.

Grabbing his net of fish, Sokka stood up, balancing as best he could, trying to time the exact moment, right down to the second. It was either do it right, or get crushed to death.

Hollering, he jumped to the left as the floes collided with a crunch. Behind him, his boat splintered to pieces, the wood shrieking as it snapped.

He landed face down on the ice floe that he had jumped towards. It was smaller in size than the opposite floe, and his momentum carried him into a belly-slide towards the edge.

Desperate to stop, Sokka threw out both arms, releasing the net and using both hands to try and grip the ice. It worked.

But the net slid over the edge and disappeared below the sea with a splash. It took several moments before the direness of the situation hit Sokka with its full force.

His shout of anguish echoed around the icy wilderness.

He raged and screamed, all of his anger, fear and desperation surging out of him as he rampaged around the ice floe.

Water Tribe blood flowed through his veins, but right now his heart burned as fiercely as a furnace.

It just wasn't _fair_. His tribe was hanging by a thread as it was. He had been left in charge of the village when his father and the other men had left to fight. But it was falling apart. He was failing.

People were counting on him, and he was _failing_.

What hurt the most was how sympathetic and understanding they were. They _didn't_ blame him, even when they _should have_. He didn't deserve their compassion. He had failed them. He had failed them before he had started.

He had failed them before he was born.

If he was any good, he would've been born optimistic, and caring and sweet. He would've been born with steadier hands and a sturdier body. He would've been – _should've been_ – tenacious, confident, and bold. He should've been able to hunt and fight easily.

He should have been born a waterbender – if he wasn't so _useless_. But he was.

Instead, it was his younger sister who had been gifted with the ability to control their element. It was she who had brought a promise of light as the rest of them wallowed in darkness. She was the one who had given the tribe hope – a hope which they hadn't felt in a long time.

And then she had been taken by the Fire Nation.

And he hadn't been able to help her.

That day his mother had died, and his sister had been taken – and he had been _useless_ the entire time.

Crying out towards the heavens, he grabbed his club and slammed it down against the ice, over and over. He didn't care if he was disrespecting nature and laying waste to his homeland like an ungrateful wretch. What good was his life now?

He would die. And the rest of his tribe would soon follow.

 _You have failed, Sokka._

The sound of cracking ice halted his dark ruminations. Thin fracture lines started spreading over the surface.

An obscene expletive popped into his mind, but his voice was lost before he could say it out loud. Instead, he grabbed the sack containing the rest of his weapons and sprinted for dear life. Doing his best to ignore the loud cracking behind him, he spotted small chunks of ice that formed a crude path towards a larger iceberg. It was a large sphere nestled inside the centre of a thick, wide floe – aside from the fact that the sphere was perfectly circular and massively humongous, it reminded Sokka of the meeting igloo back home.

He barely registered hopping across the small ice chunks and throwing himself onto the shallow slope of the glacier, his heart beating wildly in his chest. Rolling onto his back, he slowly sat up and surveyed the spot where he had just come from. The former ice floe had now disintegrated into miniature ice lumps not unlike the ones he had just scampered across. After several moments, his mind slowly allowed the desolate reality of his predicament to truly sink in.

He would not be returning home tonight.

 _Idiot! You should've let yourself drown!_

But some cowardly part of him, buried deep down, was _afraid_ of death.

He resented that part of himself more than ever, and that bitterness swiftly turned into outright hatred.

He hated himself, and that self-loathing expressed itself in the form of whacking the damn, stupid iceberg with his bloody club.

His father was far away. His mother was dead. His little sister was _dead_ – yes, she had been taken prisoner, but those Fire Nation scumbags didn't have an ounce of mercy in them. Not even for a child.

He would never say it to Gran-Gran, lest he send her over the edge, but there was an unfillable void in his heart where his sister used to be.

Katara was dead. He knew it, he felt it, and he had accepted that terrible truth years ago, even if it meant that every waking moment onwards would be a living nightmare.

It would've been – should've been – so easy to kill himself back there, but some part of him had balked at the notion of ending it all.

The bitter side of his subconscious mocked him, taunted him for his spinelessness, and told him he had no excuse.

The rest of his subconscious – his empathetic and loving self – scolded him for thinking that way, reminded him that he had people who needed him, that others had given their life so that he and the rest of his tribe could live.

 _Mom and Katara died for you. If you don't want to let them down, then survive._

 _Survive._

Survive.

His mind pulsing with a new conviction, Sokka came back to his senses and stopped hammering away. His right arm, which held his club, dropped idly to his side as he pondered his next move. To survive, he would first need a shelter for the night. The question of how he would travel home could wait until tomorrow, when it was necessary to deal with that issue.

He examined his involuntary handiwork. His club had already started caving in a shallow depression in the spherical ice wall. Either he was stronger than he thought he was, or the ice was weaker than it looked. In the end, he decided that both possibilities didn't matter – he would soon have shelter for the night, and that's what counted.

Just as he swung his club again, the impact resounding with a _crack_ , a bright glow of blue light glimmered on the other side. Sokka stepped back, eyeing the iceberg warily. He couldn't see anything which could've caused the phosphorescence. He would have to walk around to find out more about the situation.

 _Well, what are you waiting for, Sokka? Go and check it out!_

An encouraging voice in his head advised his heart to follow, but the boy hesitated, thinking the idea to be ludicrous and crazy.

 _You've got nothing to lose. Besides, it's what Katara would do._

 _It's what Katara would do._

That was enough for him to decide his next course of action.

Grabbing his weapons bag, Sokka cautiously made his way to where the blue light was being emitted, his club held at the ready.

However, when he finally laid his eyes on the source of the light, his entire body went slack. His hands loosened and dropped what they were holding, and it was all he could do to just keep standing.

Frozen inside the iceberg was a young boy. He sat with his fists joined together and his legs crossed, in peaceful repose. The boy was bald, and he seemed to have arrows tattooed on his forehead and hands. Those tattoos seemed to be the apparent source of the blue light. Despite his frozen state, the boy's face betrayed no signs of anguish or torment – and that was what unnerved Sokka the most.

 _Well, what are you waiting for? Free him!_

The voice in his head scolded him again, reprimanded him for having second thoughts.

His body running on pure instinct right now, Sokka was only acutely aware that he had picked up his club again and was hammering away at the spherical walls of the iceberg once more. Using double-handed blows, Sokka soon found himself making a series of rapidly-spreading cracks across the iceberg's surface.

Suddenly, a decisive blow caused the multiple cracks to connect together like the patterns of rope on a fishing net. Underneath the surface of the ice, the blue light glowed brighter than ever. Sokka took this as a warning sign and threw himself onto the ground, off to the side.

And just in time too, for pure light overwhelmed his senses as the upper half of the ice sphere exploded upwards, sending gusts of cold wind shooting out around the immediate area.

The icy air seized up Sokka's lungs, and for several frantic moments he couldn't breathe. Taking deep breaths to regain control of his body, he finally managed to look up when the wind had subsided to see a beam of pure energy reaching towards the heavens.

* * *

On the deck of a Fire Navy patrol boat, another teenage boy was observing the light show with great anticipation and interest. His own head was bald, with only a short ponytail at the back to signal to others that he was an exile. A burn scar wrapped around the left side of his face, from the eye to the ear – a mark of disgrace from a failed duel.

A dishonoured prince though he was, the teenager still held hope that one day he could redeem himself in the eyes of his father.

And now, he had his chance.

"Uncle!" the boy called to a middle-aged man who was sipping some jasmine tea as he studied a pile of cards. The man hadn't seemed to notice the sudden change in scenery, but the boy had some patience as his uncle was getting old.

"Uncle, do you know what this means?"

A rhetorical question, but one the boy hoped his uncle would indulge in.

"I won't get to finish my game?" the man answered, sounding disappointed.

Though the answer wasn't what he wanted from his guardian, that didn't deter the fire of conviction that had ignited in the boy's heart.

"It means my search is about to come to an end. That light came from an _incredibly_ powerful source. It has to be him!"

The man, Iroh, breathed wearily, resignation settling into his aging bones.

"Or it's just the celestial lights," he said to his nephew, "We've been down this road before, Prince Zuko. I don't want you to get too excited over nothing."

 _"You may think that capturing the Avatar will be your ticket home, but you have only served as a pawn for your father. If you could only realize it,"_ the old man thought, but he didn't have the heart to say it to his nephew. Zuko still had a great deal of his innocence intact, in spite of the large burn scar that streaked across his face – an eternal mark left by a cruel parent on an unwanted child.

"Please sit," Iroh continued, beckoning his nephew to spend some time with him, instead of mulling over his perceived shortcomings and failures, "Why don't you enjoy a cup of calming jasmine tea?"

His nephew's aura suddenly burned like a fusion torch.

"I DON'T NEED ANY CALMING TEA! I NEED TO CAPTURE THE AVATAR!"

The exiled prince turned towards the bridge to yell a command.

"Helmsman! Head a course for the light!"

In the frigid waters of the South Pole, a steel vessel began to turn, bringing its passengers closer towards the crossroads of destiny.

* * *

As the light faded away, the young boy, still glowing, slowly floated to the top of the newly-made ice crater.

Sokka grabbed his spear and raised it warningly. But he needn't have done so, for after a moment, the boy's energy stopped glowing, and the small figure turned from an eerie blue to a worldly yellow as he fell from the sky.

 _"Catch him!"_ the voice in Sokka's mind told him. Big brother instinct surged out of his heart, and as he caught the younger boy in his arms, he welcomed back the familiar fraternal feeling. Even if it brought back painful memories of his mother and his little sister, he had missed the need to feel protective over a loved one.

With the child safe and sound in his arms, Sokka could take a closer look.

The boy wore yellow robes, complete with a red shawl and burgundy boots. Sokka vaguely remembered tales that his grandmother would tell him when he was little, of a time when the people of the world lived in harmony, when there were four nations instead of three. Of a time when humanity had only known peace.

This boy was not from the Water Tribes – that much was obvious. He couldn't have been Fire Nation either, and no one from the Earth Kingdoms dressed like this.

 _That means you're looking at…!_

Before Sokka could finish the thought, soft moans arose from the boy's mouth.

* * *

 _Free…_

 _Free…_

 _I'm finally awake, and I'm free…_

Those were the thoughts that circled inside the head of the young airbender as his grey eyes slowly fluttered open.

His pupils dilated gradually as light entered his world for the first time in ages. Blinking to focus his vision, it became apparent to the airbender that someone, a teenager from the looks of things, was staring at him in close proximity. He could also feel the warm hands of his saviour at his back, cradling him.

Finally, he found his voice.

"Please… come closer…"

The older boy did so in response, curiosity and concern etched on his features.

"I need to ask you something…"

"What is it?" the teenager asked.

"Will you go penguin sledding with me?"

"What?! Are you kidding me?!" the older boy recoiled, his arms setting the airbender down on the snow, "Not to burst your bubble, kiddo, but right now we have more pressing issues to worry about rather than penguin sledding."

"Oh…" sighed the airbender, disappointed.

A low rumbling behind him soon changed his mood, however.

"Appa!" he cried ecstatically, racing up the slope of the crater and jumping onto the head of his loyal sky bison, "Are you alright? Wake up buddy!"

"What is _that_?!"

The young boy turned from his position on the bison's nose to look at his new friend, who had just come around the entrance to the other side of the crater.

"This is Appa, my flying bison."

" _Flying_ bison? Yeah right," sniffed the teenager.

"It's _true_ ," the boy protested, a little hurt by the brusque nature of his newfound companion.

"Look kid, you never even told me your name."

 _"Oh, right. How rude of me,"_ the airbender thought as he gently alighted on the snowy ground. He strode towards the teen, right hand outstretched.

"I'm Aang."

"Sokka," the older boy replied, warily taking a hold of his hand with his own gloved one and giving it a little shake.

"So, um, I'm guessing you're from the Southern Water Tribe?" Aang asked, eyeing the teenager's clothing more prudently.

"Yeah," Sokka answered cautiously, not in the mood to establish small talk, "But I'm kind of stranded far away from home, at the moment."

The Water Tribe boy gestured around with an arm, and soon Aang found his bearings in the icy wilderness.

"Do you know which way is your tribe?" he asked Sokka, who pointed towards a certain direction.

"You know," Aang continued merrily, "Appa and I would be glad to give you a lift!"

"I'd definitely appreciate that," Sokka replied, a hint of a smile forming on his lips.

"You might want to hang on then," Aang said, grabbing a hold of Sokka's hands. With a short burst of effort, he had airbent the both of them up and into Appa's saddle. Aang landed gracefully, crouched on his feet.

Sokka, on the other hand, landed face-down for the umpteenth time that day.

Aang made his way back to the head of his animal companion and took the reins that were attached to its horns.

"Okay, Appa, yip-yip!"

The bison responded to the command of its closest companion, and leapt into the air with a roar…

Only to come crashing down into the salty polar water with a splash.

"Um… I think Appa's just a little tired," Aang said bashfully, as the mighty beast began to paddle gently through the currents, "A little rest and he'll be soaring through the sky. You'll see."

Sokka bit back a sarcastic remark. There was something he needed to know.

"Hey kid! Hey, Aang!" he called out to the younger boy who was perched on the bison's head.

"Yes?" the young airbender turned his head, smiling back at him, glad to continue their small-talk conversation.

"You're an airbender, aren't you?"

"Sure am!" replied Aang cheerily. Sokka's next words made his blood freeze, however.

"Well, do you know what happened to the Avatar?"

"Oh, no. I didn't know him. I mean, I knew people that knew him, but I didn't. Sorry," Aang answered. A yawn suddenly came over him. For reasons he didn't know, he suddenly felt very tired, despite having just woken up from an icy slumber.

Sokka knew that the young child was hiding something, but he didn't want to press the matter now.

"We should get some rest," the teenager advised, "It's gonna be a while before we get back home. Goodnight, Aang."

"Goodnight, Sokka," replied Aang, just as he saw the older boy disappear back into the saddle to turn in for the night.

A feeling of guilt formed inside the airbender's stomach, but his fatigue quickly helped to push it down.

From somewhere behind him, he heard Sokka snoring, and the sounds of a fellow human being at rest soon lulled Aang into his own drowsy state.

Just before he closed his eyes, he let himself sprawl backwards onto Appa's head, and made sure that both of his hands were still clutching the reins.

And then he shut his eyes, and drifted off into the land of dreams.

* * *

 **Aang's ice dome is already at the surface for Sokka to stumble across. The universe has decided to give Sokka the historical moment of awakening the Avatar from his icy slumber. Yeah.**

* * *

 **PUBLISHED ON = 25 / 01 / 2019**

 **REWRITTEN ON = 25 / 07 / 2019**


	4. Life in the Cage

**This chapter is shorter so we can have a bit of quicker pacing.**

* * *

 **Life in the Cage**

Time was nothing in this place.

It was meaningless.

Just like her existence.

Since her first day here, however long ago that was, it had been hot and dry to an unbearable degree.

Her limbs, scrawny and frail, ached with stiffness. Her skin, once soft and tender, was now scabrous and desiccated.

She suffered dreadfully, and she suffered alone.

She was kept alive only so that the prison guards could watch her waste away.

She would be kept in here until the day she died. Only then would they finally unlock her cage and drag her body outside to dispose of.

Just like they did to all the others.

One by one, the remaining waterbenders of the Southern Water Tribe perished slowly, and painfully.

The last one died several months ago. Maybe it was a year…?

She couldn't remember.

She could barely think.

But the sights from those occasions would haunt her forever.

* * *

 _The eldest of them, the old man in the cage opposite hers, had passed away in his sleep a few short days after her arrival._

 _Another elder, a woman several cages down the line, was the next to expire. One day her body, so bony and frail from enduring years of squalid living conditions, just slumped against the bars on one corner of her cage. She never moved from that spot again._

 _The last time the young child had seen that particular prisoner was when the guards had dragged the body right past her cage. She had shuddered uncontrollably as the tears spilled down her face, knowing that corpse would be her one day._

 _But those deaths were only just the beginning of the end._

* * *

The child broke off from the painful memory.

She shifted her position, her limbs aching with the effort. Her cage didn't allow her much room to move about. She couldn't even stand up inside it. Not that it mattered much anyway.

In this place, any unnecessary movement was a waste of energy. She couldn't afford to expend what little vitality she had. Not if she wanted to continue clinging to life.

Though she didn't have much of a life here.

She coughed as her chest spasmed painfully. Her vision blurred as she struggled to breathe.

The guards always made sure that hot, dry air was continuously pumped into the prison. It was one of many precautions implemented to prevent prisoners from waterbending.

But consequentially, even just breathing was torturous for her.

She groaned.

Her dry mouth and throat added to her misery. She couldn't swallow to soothe the soreness in her throat. She constantly felt lightheaded and on the verge of dizziness. Even the slightest movement of her chapped lips caused them to start stinging painfully.

Her spirit had shattered long ago. What was left of her was fading away.

They kept her alive — but just barely.

Every meal was the same routine of cruelty. One meagre slice of bread. Every single time.

They gave her water from a small cup that was attached to a long pole — but only after her hands were tautly chained behind her back.

No more than three cups were given to her — just enough to keep her alive from one agonizing day to the next.

And on full moon nights, the guards wouldn't give her anything to drink at all.

* * *

 _She remembers one of the old waterbenders comforting her, consoling her, and teaching her the culture of their bending. Giving her more insight on who she was._

 _A child of the sea, with the ice and snow as her domain. Chosen by the spirits to have command over her element, and blessed by the Moon with a special gift._

 _Of how, on a full moon's night, a waterbender would find their power doubled, tripled even._

 _Yes, the Moon was their most loyal friend. Their greatest ally. Their light in the dark._

 _Tui, the Moon Spirit, watched over his descendants, his children. He would never abandon them._

 _Even on their darkest nights, they would never be truly alone._

 _As long as the Moon rose each night, there was still hope._

 _The Fire Nation could cage them, chain them, torture them, humiliate them — but they could never take away the Moon._

 _One day, they would be free._

 _One day, she would be free…_

* * *

Those were the failed promises that haunted the girl in her dreams.

Those were the hopeless lies that taunted her in her darkest thoughts, when she would let her mind drift in a futile attempt to ease the pain.

Freedom was but a memory. A memory lost to happier times, from an eternity ago.

She was nothing but a caged animal now. A lowly creature who would be punished by her owners whenever they felt like she deserved it.

Her life was nothing more than a pathetic and torturous existence.

Miserably slumping against the bars of her cage, she coughed again.

A sword suddenly slammed against the bars with a clang and she yelped, flinching away.

"Quiet, you little witch," a soldier hissed at her.

She could barely see his silhouette in the shadowy darkness, but the sight of the sharp and spiky armour that he wore was enough for terror to blossom in her heart.

His jagged helmet covered his face like an outer skull, giving him the appearance of a monstrous and unworldly creature, and accentuating the malevolent gaze of his eyes.

More than anything, it was those piercing, golden eyes of evil that frightened her the most.

All the monsters in her nightmares shared those eyes. So did the monsters who kept her imprisoned here.

She didn't dare look at those eyes.

It really wasn't enough that she was young, helpless, and cooped up in a small and cramped cage.

They wanted to see her die. Slowly, and painfully.

The mere notion of that was terrifying enough.

With bleary eyes, she stared submissively at the floor of her cage. She started to tremble, fear settling into her stomach.

He wanted the impossible.

She was rotting away in here. Years of malnourishment and dehydration had damaged her.

Her body couldn't deal with the constant torture it was subjected to.

Her torment was neverending.

Her head throbbed. Her chest felt tight, constantly aching from the hot, dry air that was pumped into the prison. Her throat felt painful and raw. Her mouth felt sticky and dry.

But the guard had spoken, and she had to follow.

Her sore lips drew into a tight line as she tried to bite back another cough.

The guard watched her intently, yellow eyes glinting predatorily in the darkness. Waiting for her to break.

She couldn't keep this up forever.

Her chest felt like it was cramping up. Panicking, she opened her mouth and gulped down as much air as she could. The act of doing so aggravated the insides of her throat.

And she coughed.

The only warning she was given was the telltale sign of quiet whistling as the guard's hand quickly charged up with combustion.

Then the flames leapt at her.

She screamed.

Frantically scrambling away, she threw herself against the bars on the far side of the cage.

Desperate to protect herself, she flung up her right arm to shield her face, and she shut her eyes tight.

The cage lurched violently when she moved. It crashed into the empty one hanging next to it, knocking her flat on her face. She screamed again.

There was no sympathy to be found with the soldier, however.

"Stupid little scut," he sneered as he walked off, satisfied.

Sprawled on the floor of her cage, it took several minutes for the child to gain enough courage to open her eyes.

She gasped painfully for breath, her heart beating wildly in her chest. She struggled to regain control of herself, still desperate and frantic and beside herself with fear.

The tears leaked out freely as she assessed the damage.

Her head throbbed more painfully than ever. She was certain that a bruise would form on her face by the next day. Her throat felt even raspier than before from screaming. The fragile skin on her dry lips had finally cracked. As she licked her lips, she could taste the metallic flavour of blood as the red, viscous fluid trickled into her dry and sticky mouth. To add insult to injury, several locks of her brown hair had been charred to an ugly black by the fire.

She whimpered, her voice tiny and hoarse.

The sting of burn wounds became apparent and she looked down at her right arm. The skin around her elbow was scorched. Shiny and red, and beginning to blister.

She could feel another burn on her right cheek, just below the eye.

More scars to add to her collection.

It _hurt_. The hot, dry air augmented the pain, making her wounds sting more than they normally would.

But she swallowed down a sob and tried to resist another onset of tears. Her body couldn't afford to lose what little water it had.

Despite the excruciating agony that engulfed her, these wounds were merely trivial.

This wasn't the worst they could do to her.

It wasn't the worst that they've _done_ to her.

* * *

 _After her mentor died, she had sank into a depression._

 _The old lady's faith had not saved her. The guards had only taken pleasure out of her pointless struggle to live. They had rejoiced when she had breathed her last — a final, sputtering, wheezing cough._

 _Then they taunted the child as they dragged away the body of the only friend she had ever had in this place._

 _After a period of mourning, her sadness turned into anger, and one day she made the costly mistake of lashing out at her captors._

 _They had more than repaid the favour._

* * *

She looked down at her body, trying to count the rest of her burn scars.

The most prominent ones were located on her hands and feet. Those were the first burns that she had received long ago — the scars that she had the most vivid memories of attaining.

It had been a harrowing experience. One that had crushed the last of her defiance, destroyed the last vestiges of her hope, and made her realize the difference between bravery and stupidity.

It was an experience that she had tried to forget about.

But every time she looked at the discolourations on her skin, she could feel every bit of her scarred flesh, with their permanently deadened sense of touch, and the memories of torture would come flooding back.

The frightening sight of flames rushing towards her, the fire scorching and burning her flesh, the agony of blisters throbbing on her skin…

She'd remember, no matter how much she tried to forget.

Sometimes, she could still hear herself screaming, crying in pain.

She rolled over onto her left side, so she wouldn't be lying down on her wounds. Every part of her body still ached, and the stinging of the burns had worsened.

Through the bars of the grate high above her cage, she saw the moon in the night sky, surrounded by a sea of stars.

She sighed sadly.

There was no water for her to bend, and even if there was, she lacked the skill and the strength to do so.

No point in thinking about a plan.

She couldn't fight.

And no one was coming for her. No friends. No family. No Avatar. No one.

That was a harsh truth that she had come to accept long ago.

She was never going to get out.

She would die in here.

Sighing plaintively again, she closed her eyes, trying to find sleep.

It was difficult, though. Her limbs ached all the time, and every breath she took made her throat and chest hurt.

For all she knew, she could very well die in her sleep.

She still yearned for it, though. She desperately needed escape and this was the only option she had.

Whatever awaited her in her dreams, it had to be better than the dark reality that tormented her. It just had to be.

Her fate was sealed, but the inevitable could be delayed.

The rumbling rhythm of the air pumps at work seemed soothing, for once. In the quiet lull before she succumbed to the night, the irony of this was lost on her.

Finally, she drifted off into an uneasy and restless sleep.

* * *

 **This was originally going to be Chapter 3, but I changed the order to freshen the pacing a little.**

* * *

 **Published on: January 25, 2019**

 **Rewritten on: July 22, 2019**


	5. A New World

**"You have been born into dangerous times. A sharp mind can be the key to survival."** _ **  
**_ **– Taun We, _Star Wars: Republic Commando_**

* * *

 **A New World**

 _Lightning flashed, and thunder roared._

 _And the scream of a boy, no older than 12, rang clear as crystal in the chaotic, merciless storm._

 _The boy was riding a flying bison, fleeing from the shackles of responsibility, the fear of abandonment, and the burdens of dependence._

 _The bison, still as green and as callow as his master, was overwhelmed by the furious howls of the world, despite his best efforts._

 _After an eternity of feeling the stark terror of falling, and the desperate screaming that comes with it, the boy and the bison smashed into the raging ocean._

 _The bison, to the boy's distress, seemed knocked out at the least, dead at the most._

 _Grief, anguish, and a surprising dose of resolution entered the boy, and using what he had learned he called upon the spirits of those before him to help._

 _Help him to create an icy pod, born of cold air and water, to house him, to freeze him, to preserve him and his bison until a day came that the universe decided that the time would be right to release them._

 _To resurrect them._

 _To give them a second chance in the world. And to right all the wrongs that have been done._

* * *

Aang awoke.

Dim light was the first thing he saw as his eyes fluttered open. The gentle clicking of two knitting needles at work became apparent to his hearing. The next thing he noticed was the chilly temperature all around him. Instinctively, his breathing exercises kicked in, warming him efficiently. He blinked twice to clear his vision, and became aware of the fact that he was inside a tent.

"I see that you are awake, little one," a voice beside him said.

Aang turned his head to look at the speaker – an old water tribe woman.

"Awake, and a little confused as well, I might imagine," she continued, a small and gentle smile crossing her wizened face.

"A bit," Aang admitted bashfully, respectful in the presence of an elder. The old lady reminded him of some of the Air Nomad elders who were part of the council back at the temple. Well, the ones who weren't strict, anyways.

"Where am I? Where's my bison? Where's Sokka?" Aang questioned, wanting to get up to speed with his current situation.

"You're in a tent at the Southern Water Tribe. Your bison is sleeping outside. Both of you were worn out from the ordeal you went through yesterday. My grandson told me as much," answered the elder, holding up one hand in a placating manner.

"Now, do you mind telling me how a young boy like you ended up frozen in an iceberg?"

Aang halted at the question. Even if it wasn't one of the old monks lecturing him for a cheeky prank, he still felt ashamed at having to lie to an elder.

But he wasn't ready to face up yet. Not yet.

"I… I don't remember exactly…" he stuttered, "All I remember is that my bison and I were flying through a storm and suddenly it was so cold… I can't recall much else before that. Sorry missus…?"

"You can call me Kanna."

"Kanna," Aang let the new name roll off of his tongue. He looked down at the blankets covering him, pondering what to say next.

"Well, incomplete stories tend to finish themselves later," Kanna spoke up, "Down here in the South, we have to adapt, prioritize and act to get things done."

She placed her knitting to the side, and stood up from where she was kneeling on the mat.

"Get dressed, young one. It was midnight when you arrived here. We should introduce you to the rest of the village."

Aang nodded eagerly at the proposal. After spotting his robes in a pile beside the mat, he got set to dressing himself.

* * *

It turned out that even with the loss of his catch yesterday, the women of the tribe had been busy with their own hunting trips, and they had wisely decided not to stray too far from the icy coasts of the polar mainland in their search of food. As a result, they had successfully returned with sufficient amounts of fish and squid for everybody.

For Sokka, it was both relieving and humiliating.

He was helping to distribute the catches in even amounts of rations based on each family's needs when he noticed that the flap to his own tent had been opened and out walked the airbender and his grandmother.

It was time then.

"Everybody! Gather around!" he commanded. As the firstborn son of the chief, Sokka was the de facto tribe leader when all the other men had left with his father. Gran-Gran, as the oldest member of the village and the mother of the chief, was the only person with an authority equal to his.

The villagers halted their activities and assembled behind Sokka in an organized manner. Quiet murmurs spread through their ranks as Aang and Kanna approached. Aang faltered, his shyness increasing.

"Why are they all looking at me like that? Did Appa sneeze on me?"

"Well no one here has seen an airbender in over a hundred years," Kanna told the boy, "We thought they were all extinct, until my grandson found you."

"Extinct?" sputtered Aang apprehensively.

Sokka, meanwhile, had taken an interest in the staff that the young boy was holding.

"Hey, Aang. Is that supposed to be a weapon?" he asked, pointing at the object in question, "It lacks a blade."

"It's not for hunting," Aang corrected him, "It's for airbending!"

Aang twisted part of the handgrip at the center of the stave, and with a click, silk wings in the shape of fans sprouted from the ends of the staff, the front pair several times larger than the back.

"Ooh! Magic trick!" squealed one of the children, a young girl.

"Not magic – airbending!" Aang corrected her with a smile, before getting a short run-up and taking off into the sky.

The crowd below him gasped in awe.

"I can control the air currents with my staff, which allows me to fly!" he called down as he swooped around in a circle.

The village children cheered in wondrous glee.

"Aang's amazing!" cried out another girl.

"That's so cool!" a young boy called out.

"Can I try?" yet another boy asked.

"Whoa there," Sokka interjected, "No one said anything about trying to fly. That staff belongs to Aang, and besides, we're Water Tribe. All we need is the sea."

Several disappointed moans were the responses that he received.

Sokka sighed before slightly loosening up and rephrasing his statement.

"Although I will admit, Aang's flying is pretty cool."

And the kids went back to smiling.

"Oh, wait…" Sokka said as he squinted his eyes, "Where's he going…?"

Aang was so busy reveling in the villagers' awe that he had forgotten to look where he was flying.

"Oof!" the airbender cried as he slammed headfirst into a snow spire.

The spire promptly crumpled in half and regressed into a simple pile of snow. Aang was left with his upper body stuck in the pile, his legs kicking frantically in an attempt to free himself.

"My watchtower!" squeaked Sokka in dismay.

Everyone else just laughed.

* * *

An empty ice crater.

That's what Prince Zuko found himself staring down at when he had dismounted his ship to inspect the iceberg. He had no doubt that this geographical formation was man-made, and could only be the work of a powerful bender. But the empty ice that stretched before him and all around him confirmed another fact – that said powerful bender, the Avatar, was also long gone by now.

He marched back to the ship, the snow steaming underneath his boots.

On the deck, Iroh looked down at his nephew in concern. He stroked his beard as Zuko made his way back up the steps.

"Nephew…"

"Not now, uncle."

Zuko turned towards the bridge.

"Start the engines back up! We'll sweep the entirety of the South Sea if we have to!"

The helmsman looked down at him incredulously.

"Sir! Surely you can't–"

Flames sprouted from Zuko's wrists.

"Did I give you permission to speak, Helmsman Hong?!"

"No sir."

"Then start the engines. Lieutenant Jee?"

The senior sailor approached. "Yes, Prince Zuko?"

"Assemble your firebenders on deck. I must prepare myself if I am to capture the Avatar and bring him back to my father."

To his credit, Jee simply nodded and left to carry out his order.

A gnarled hand placed itself on Zuko's shoulder. Iroh looked up at his nephew with a careworn expression.

"Prince Zuko, regardless of element, all bending requires a focused and collected state of mind. You are wishing to train when you are not at your peak. That is self-detrimental. First, you must rest."

"I don't need rest, uncle," Zuko replied as he shrugged his uncle's hand away, "With every moment that I waste, the Avatar gets further and further away. I _must_ capture him."

"If the Avatar has truly lived for this long, then he won't be wasting his energy on unnecessary movement. He is old, and he would've acquired the age-old wisdom that a man needs his rest," Iroh persisted, "You will find him, Prince Zuko. That I am sure of. But you will not be up to the task of facing him if you do not _rest_."

"I. Don't. Need. Rest!" snapped Zuko, pulling away, "If I let the Avatar get away, then that's my only chance of returning home _gone_!"

Zuko stormed over to the bow, scanning the icy horizon that lay ahead. The words he murmured next were only just loud enough for his uncle to hear.

"I have to find him, uncle. I just have to."

* * *

"Settle down, please!" Sokka protested in frustration to the rambunctious group of little boys play-fighting in front of him.

The teen's words went unheeded, to his increasing consternation. The boys' excited shouting just got louder and louder.

Until one of them accidentally got socked in the jaw by a random fist. A high-pitched wail spread throughout the nearby vicinity. Sokka groaned in both concern and humiliation. Already someone had gotten hurt – _before_ today's lesson had even begun.

"Okay," he sighed, stepping into the fray, "Who got hit?"

"Gedra," five voices answered him as the unhurt boys parted to the sides to reveal their youngest member sobbing on the snowy ground.

Sokka crouched down to examine the toddler's injury. The boy was barely 3.

Not even old enough to be a proper warrior, but the war had forced them all to answer to their duties long before their time had come. Sokka often mentally balked at the unfairness of it all, but as always, he pushed down these disturbing thoughts. Right now, he needed to focus.

"Who punched him?" he asked simply.

"Mada."

Sokka looked over his shoulder to see Moshi pointing at his younger twin.

"I am going to deal with you later, Mada," he stated flatly, before turning to two other boys, "Rikada. Denal. You two are in charge while I help Gedra here. I want you to take the rest of the warriors on practice laps around the inner perimeter of the village."

"Okay!" Denal boldly declared as he broke off into a run, "Follow me, boys!"

"Hey, wait up!" Rikada called to the younger boy in annoyance as he ensured that the other young warriors were jogging in line.

With the two 5-year-olds managing the rest of the group, Sokka could now focus his attention on the injured toddler.

"Hey… hey Ged," Sokka spoke softly to the youngest boy, whose crying had slightly abated, "You're alright. You'll be alright. Nothing is bleeding, and your teeth look fine. Come now, you're brave. You're strong. Like a warrior. Like a man."

Gedra slowly nodded, using a sleeve to wipe away his tears.

"Do you want to stay with your sister? You can skip today's lesson," Sokka offered.

"Mm-hmm," said Gedra, nodding again.

"Alright then, up we go," said Sokka, gently pulling the kid to his feet.

After several minutes of wandering around the small village, the pair of boys managed to find Iqniq.

At 5 years old, she was Gedra's older sister, and very protective towards him. Almost like a second mother. Despite her very young age, she was wise beyond her years. It came with being the oldest girl in the village.

Right now, she was busy sharpening her mother's cooking utensils.

"Ged! What happened?" she asked frantically as she halted her chores, looking up from her little brother towards Sokka.

"He's fine, Iqniq. He just took a hard punch, that's all. He'll be sitting out the rest of today's lesson, so can you keep an eye on him?"

"Of course," Iqniq replied, dutifully taking her brother's hand, "Come along, Ged."

With that taken care of, Sokka went off in search of his class.

As he trudged along, he heard loud, joyful shouts arising from the village entrance. Suddenly suspicious, Sokka picked up the pace.

His intuition turned out to be correct when he turned past the meeting igloo and found the boys using Appa's tail as a slide. Aang was supervising them from the saddle.

"Stop! Stop this right now!" bellowed Sokka, his blood boiling.

The little boys gathered themselves in a small cluster off to the side, shame and fear spreading amongst their faces.

"What is _wrong_ with you?!" Sokka yelled up at Aang, "We don't have time for fun and games with the war going on!"

"What war?" asked Aang as he jumped down from the saddle, "What are you talking about?"

"You… you're _kidding_ , right?" sputtered Sokka.

"PENGUIN!" shrieked Aang in delight, as he finally found what he was looking for on the horizon.

Before anyone else could move, Aang dashed after the otter-penguin as it waddled away below the horizon. The airbender was out of sight in less than ten seconds.

Sokka let out a long-suffering sigh and turned to the children.

"Come on. Let's head back to the remains of the watchtower and start our belated lesson."

* * *

"Again!" Iroh commanded to two firebenders, who proceeded to throw flames at Prince Zuko.

As part of the teenager's training exercise, he had to dodge attacks from multiple assailants and effectively counter with his own flourishes.

However, the prince took the point of flourishes too literally. They were supposed to be a restrained display of power, to discourage any further attempts of assault from opponents. Putting too much emphasis on channeling fire through one's rage was a waste of chi.

It was a pity that Zuko, like most firebenders, let emotions fuel their movements. Passion is a brilliant source of energy, but it could burn just as quickly as paper.

"No," Iroh fumed, growing more frustrated, "How many times must we go over this? Power in firebending comes from the breath – not the muscles."

The old general inhaled slowly following this, to emphasize his point.

"The breath becomes energy in the body. The energy extends past your limbs and becomes fire."

Without much physical effort, Iroh shot a powerful stream of flame past his nephew to demonstrate the proper basic form.

"Now get it right this time."

However, rather than heeding his uncle's words, Zuko strode up angrily to him.

"Enough! I've been drilling this sequence all day! Teach me the next set! I'm _more_ than ready!"

"No! You are impatient! You have yet to master your basics! Drill it again!"

It was the familiar yet entirely unwelcome argument about the bending arts yet again. Iroh would try and explain to his nephew the point of proper utilization of chi for firebending, while Zuko would try and force his point with aggressive boldness, as he usually did when he met any sort of resistance.

Though tempted to strike out at his uncle, the prince still held the aging man in high esteem, and so he redirected his anger via an overwhelming fire kick against one of the soldier benders. The soldier, caught unaware and lacking the same rage that currently coursed through his prince, was blasted back by the full power of the blast, with only his armour preventing him from receiving any burns.

"The sages told us that the Avatar is the last airbender. He must be over a hundred years old by now. He's had a century to master the four elements!" Zuko snapped, glaring at his uncle, who mirrored back his own displeasure, "I'll need more than basic firebending to defeat him. You _will_ teach me the advanced set!"

Iroh considered his nephew's demands, before eventually conceding.

"Very well. But first I must finish my roast duck."

* * *

Sokka was in a better mood now that his training session was underway.

"Now men, it's important that you show no fear when you face a firebender. In the Water Tribe, we fight to the last man standing! For without courage, how can we call ourselves men?"

"Yeah! Men!" cheered Mada, who promptly was slapped upside the back of his head by his older twin.

"Shut up, you overgrown blockhead!" Moshi scolded, still ashamed of his twin's antics from earlier.

"Here now, you two!" Sokka intervened, "There will be no fighting within our ranks!"

"But I thought we're all about fighting," Rikada spoke up.

"Against the enemy. Not ourselves," explained Sokka, "We will fall if we don't stand together. The Fire Nation has already divided our numbers too many times."

"I don't want to be divided," said Atti, now the youngest member of the group since Gedra was out of commission.

"Then that is why you must learn to fight," Sokka said as he picked up a small training spear. Designed for a child, the whale tooth blade was blunted along the edges, which made the weapon perfect for a youngling to swing around and practice with. Sokka handed the spear to Atti.

"Now, I want you to spar with Rikada. Don't go gentle, either of you."

"That isn't a fair fight," Rikada protested for the sake of the younger boy.

"The Fire Nation won't fight fair, you nitwit!" Denal interjected, "So stop being a crybaby and man up!"

"I didn't ask you, ya little wolf scut!" Rikada shot back.

"Denal, that's enough," Sokka warned, "Since you're the best trainee, I want you to spar against Moshi and Mada. Both of them."

Thankfully, Denal didn't protest, too enthused by his new challenge. Sokka turned to Rikada and Atti.

"Atti, you can watch the other boys practice until Rikada and I return. See if you can learn something. Rikada, come with me."

Once there was some distance between the rest of the kids and the two boys, Sokka kneeled down to place a hand on Rikada's shoulder.

"Rik, your mother often tells me about you. How you're so helpful to her at home. That you are her pride and joy."

Rikada nodded.

"Then why do you find it so hard to step up and lead? You are the oldest of the boys, followed by Denal. You two should be keeping order, not squabbling with each other."

Rikada looked down, ashamed.

"I… I'm afraid to die… I want to _help_ … but I don't want to _die_ …"

Sokka tensed, closing his eyes and reflecting upon the surprising similarities he shared with the 5-year-old boy.

The fear of death wasn't uncommon among children brought up in war. Sokka knew this to be true, even within himself. But with the aid of a promise, he pushed through the boundaries and the limitations of his fears when it came to combat.

"Rikada…" he spoke gently, "You have a younger sister, don't you? What is her name again?"

"Rudda," the boy answered.

That was right, Sokka remembered. Rikada was a year older than Rudda, just like Sokka was with –

Just like Sokka was with _her_.

Even though it had been six years, the loss of Katara still hurt like an open wound.

Talking about her capture had become more or less taboo around the village. In his grief, Hakoda had forbidden any discussion relating to the tragedy. But every adult in the tribe more or less knew that the dire situation of their last waterbender being taken away could be deliberated in the privacy of their own homes. Perhaps it was only the younglings who didn't know.

Sokka remembered the late nights in the weeks following his sister's capture. Dad and Gran-Gran would speak in hushed, low tones around the fireplace as the dying embers dissipated. Dad would do his best to be strong and comfort Gran-Gran, but often it was the other way around. Sokka had hated seeing his father like that. Hopeless, and bitter.

Realizing that he was getting over-emotional again, Sokka inhaled deeply to clear his mind. He turned back to Rikada.

"Rikada," he began slowly, "Did you know that I too once had a little sister?"

"No."

"She was a waterbender. The first and only one to be born to our tribe in years," Sokka recounted, every word a dagger that pierced his heart, "All of our other waterbenders had been taken away and killed by the Fire Nation."

Horror spread across Rikada's young face as the realization dawned on him.

"The year before you were born, the Fire Nation raided our tribe and captured my sister. But no, that wasn't enough for them," Sokka ground out, barely keeping a grasp on his desolate rage, "Those monsters also killed my mother. And all the while I was powerless. Weak. Unable to do anything."

Sokka's grandfather – Kanna's husband and Hakoda's father – had died long before he was born. Following this tragedy, the tribe had made a collective, yet unspoken vow that after the chief and his wife had as much children as they so desired, the other couples would put off having any further children until the chief's own offspring were old enough to efficiently help out around the village.

That plan had shattered to pieces after Katara had been taken.

"Do… do you think your sister is still alive?" Rikada asked fearfully, somehow knowing what the older boy's answer would be.

"I don't know. I don't think so," answered Sokka, sadly shaking his head, "The Fire Nation are not nice people. Not if they could wipe out the airbenders and hurt our tribe like this."

A moment of silence passed before Sokka spoke again.

"That is why I encourage you to step up in your training, Rikada. Don't fail your mother the way I failed mine. Protect your sister… as I couldn't protect mine."

Rikada was looking down when Sokka said these words, but something inside him steeled, and he looked up, giving a determined nod to the older boy.

"Good man," Sokka praised, gently clapping a hand on the boy's shoulder.

They walked back to the group, but as they were about to rejoin them, Gran-Gran approached.

"Sokka, have you seen the airbender?"

"He went off to go do some penguin sledding."

Gran-Gran's weathered face furrowed even more.

"Then you must go out and retrieve him," she said gravely, "If by chance a Fire Navy patrol spots him, then that spells certain doom for all of us."

"Alright," sighed Sokka as he turned to Rikada, "You're in charge. Make sure that everyone has five sparring matches each, and then you are all free for the rest of the day."

"Okay," the boy replied as he walked back to the group.

* * *

 _Spear? Check._

 _Gloves? Check._

 _Parka? Check._

 _Seal jerky? Check._

As Sokka was packing supplies for his solo afternoon assignment, Gran-Gran entered through the tent's flap.

"Do what you must to bring him back," she said to Sokka, "But be _careful_."

Sokka slung his pack over his shoulder.

"I will, Gran-Gran."

* * *

"Hey, come on little guy! Wanna go sledding?" Aang asked a penguin cheerfully as he jumped at it.

It waddled just out of his reach, letting Aang faceplant on the snow behind it.

Aang got up and watched as the penguin rejoined its batch mates. Again, guilt flashed through his mind, this time centering around the people he left back home.

 _"Extinct? What did Kanna mean? There's no way that is possible!"_ Aang thought as he readied himself for another attempt at catching a penguin.

"Hey! Aang!" a voice called behind him.

"Sokka!" the airbender called excitedly, "Did you want to go penguin sledding too?"

"Oh for the love of…! No, Aang!" Sokka snapped as he marched up to the younger boy, "I'm here to take you back to the village. It's too dangerous to be out near the coastlines in the afternoon and evening."

"Why?"

"Why?! There's a _war_ going on, for spirits' sake! Unless you want the Fire Nation to capture or kill you, then have some common sense and turn in before the sun sets!"

"Okay, back up," interrupted Aang, holding his palms up, "Fire Nation? Capturing? _Killing_? I have friends all over the world, and plenty of them are from the Fire Nation. They're a peaceful people, just like the Air Nomads!"

"Aang," said Sokka, his tone now very grave, "How _long_ were you in that iceberg?"

A sick feeling began to bubble up within Aang's stomach.

"I don't know… A few days, maybe?" he answered, looking imploringly at Sokka for confirmation that his predicament wasn't as bad as he feared it was.

But Sokka's face only grew more wistful.

"If you really know nothing about the war, Aang, then you must have been frozen for at least a hundred years."

Aang's eyes widened.

"What?! That's impossible! Do I look like a 112-year-old man to you?"

"It's the only explanation that makes sense."

Sokka watched uncomfortably as a terrible wave of realization hit Aang like a tsunami. The airbender's silver eyes shut tightly with desolation. But that only lasted momentarily before the young boy was looking back at him, his emotional trauma gone as quickly as the wind. Sokka didn't know whether to be impressed or unnerved at the boy's sudden detached nature.

"Well…" Aang continued uneasily, "What's this about the Fire Nation being at war with you guys?"

"Aang… it's more than that…" Sokka muttered, a painful burden bearing down on his heart, "The Fire Nation is at war with the world, trying to take over the other nations. They… they killed all of our waterbenders."

Aang's eyes widened again.

"What about the tribe at the North Pole?"

"Well, we've had no contact with the Northern Water Tribe in many years, so either they've been conquered, or they're too cowardly to help their sister tribe," Sokka answered bitterly.

"Let's get back to Appa then," Aang said resolutely, "Maybe we can get reinforcements from the Air Temples. Every one of us is a bender. I'm sure we can–"

"Aang, the Air Nomads are _gone_ ," Sokka finally said, unable to beat around the igloo anymore, "The first thing the Fire Nation did in this war was to kill all of them. The Water Tribes and the Earth Kingdoms swore to avenge the Air Nomads by fighting the Fire Nation as best as they could. As best as _we_ could. But it's not enough. The Fire Nation is nearing victory in the war."

Pausing, Sokka closed his eyes, once again thinking of the bleak reality that they were all trapped in.

"I'm sorry, Aang. It's not safe out here. We need to go back–"

A sniffle.

Sokka snapped to attention, cursing himself. He had been so focused on his own inner turmoil that he hadn't even bothered to check up on Aang.

The brave resolve that Sokka had witnessed moments earlier was gone. Crushing despair had taken its place.

"No…" Aang heaved, his throat choking on tears.

Sokka approached him, reaching out a hand in a futile attempt to provide consolation.

"Aang, I'm sorry–"

 _ **"NO!"**_

A gust of wind materialized out of nowhere and knocked Sokka back a significant distance away from Aang.

When he had finally regained enough strength to lift up his head, the water tribe teen could only catch a glimpse of the young airbender as he once more disappeared into the distance.

 _"Not good,"_ thought Sokka.

* * *

Aang was only aware of three things.

His ragged breathing, the cold air which rushed past him, and the tears of unspeakable grief which blinded his eyes.

 _Dead._

 _Dead._

 _Dead._

 _All dead._

 _All the Southern Waterbenders…_

 _All the Air Nomads…_

 _All of them dead._

 _Dead._

 _ **Dead.**_

It had been bad enough finding out that a hundred years of life had been ripped away from him – but that he could have handled. Yes, he would have lost all of his friends, all of his teachers and all of his masters. But death was simply passing through the doorway that marked the end of one's mortal life into the freedom of infinity. Besides, he still had Appa.

But finding out his people were gone forever? That the Fire Nation had betrayed and laid waste to the world? That the other nations were nearing extinction themselves?

No amount of monk training would've lessened the devastation he felt.

 _It's all my fault…_

Blindly running, Aang was caught unaware as soft snow suddenly gave out under his feet and he tumbled down an icy hill. He landed in a heap at the bottom, groaning as he picked himself up and staggered. The frozen terrain of the hill had bruised him in several places during his fall, and he felt blood trickling somewhere along his right arm. He clutched it as he continued walking, before noticing that the light around him had abruptly diminished.

Looking up, Aang saw a Fire Navy ship, uprooted and entrenched by large protrusions of ice.

 _"They killed all of our waterbenders."_

Some part of him still resisted the claim, and resented Sokka for saying those words.

 _"Kuzon is… was… a good friend,"_ Aang thought sentimentally, his heart aching as he remembered his old friend, _"The Fire Nation are a good people. Surely… surely there must be some kind of mistake…"_

But somewhere in the back of his mind, a cold voice whispered, _"Then why do your feelings tell you that you're wrong?"_

He approached the ship and spotted a hole in its lower hull. Using airbending to aid his jumps, Aang leaped up the spires of ice and entered through the opening.

He wasted no time in making his way towards the bridge.

He had to know the _truth_.

* * *

Back in the village, the warrior lesson for the boys had concluded, and they had dispersed back to their families to help out with chores.

Kanna had been busy helping the other women clean and fix up their clothes.

She was just about to enter her tent to finish her knitting from earlier when she heard footsteps running in her direction.

Kanna knew the rhythmic pattern of her grandson's stride, and she knew he would only run like that if something was terribly, _terribly_ wrong and he needed to seek out guidance from her.

The look on Sokka's face told her all she needed to know.

"We've got a problem," he said.

* * *

The bridge door gave a loud metallic creak as Aang pushed it open.

Stepping inside, he went straight for the captain's room.

Kuzon's father had served in the Fire Navy as a captain, and the last time Aang had visited the Fire Nation, Kuzon had invited him aboard his father's ship. There, Aang had learned how a military ship was divided into sections, and how part of the bridge doubled as the captain's quarters. In the captain's quarters, standing orders from the Fire Nation military authority would be kept in a cupboard, along with the personal belongings of the captain.

Entering the quarters, Aang searched through several drawers, until he finally found what he was looking for.

It seemed that when this ship was wrecked, all the sailors onboard had quickly abandoned ship, without much thought for salvaging their equipment.

That proved to be most fortunate, for Aang had found a parchment – preserved for decades by the frigid atmosphere – that contained a direct message from Fire Lord… _Azulon_ himself.

 _Azulon… That must have been Sozin's son._

Aang had never heard of Sozin having a son. That development must have occurred while he was still in the iceberg.

Readying himself for what he might find, Aang unfurled the scroll and began to read.

* * *

 _To all captains of the Southern Raiders,_

 _You all know the importance of your mission._

 _As you all know, our attempted invasion of the North Pole just over two decades prior was a catastrophe that ended with the majority of our naval forces captured or killed._

 _As we busied ourselves clinging onto our footholds in the Earth Kingdom, the Water Tribes have proved to be the greater threat to our Empire of Peace. But this shall go on no longer._

 _While the Northern Water Tribe has militarized their population and bolstered their defenses, we still have the element of surprise against the South. Along with the need to avenge our fellow soldiers who have suffered at the hands of those barbarians._

 _Your mission, then, is clear._

 _Attack the Southern Water Tribe and capture all of their waterbenders._

 _Take them alive back to our homelands. We have devised a special prison complex to contain them._

 _For if one of them proves to be the new Avatar, we do not want to restart our search all over again in the Earth Kingdom._

 _Even if none of them turn out to be the Avatar, with their capture and imprisonment, you still greatly weaken the Water Tribes. With every waterbender you take, you avenge a fallen comrade, and you give your fellow soldiers a better chance of surviving our future invasions of the North and South Poles._

 _And finally, if by chance you somehow find the very last airbender, you have permission to either kill them on sight, or capture them. Because if none of the waterbenders from the South is the Avatar, then the last airbender almost certainly is._

 _Good luck, and may Agni be with you._

* * *

Aang didn't remember stumbling outside the quarters.

Nor did he remember dropping the scroll as his head spun.

He swayed uncontrollably, and he threw out his arms to brace himself as he completely lost his balance. He managed to catch himself on a control panel, but soon his arms buckled and he collapsed to the cold metal floor.

His stomach churned inside of him and he twisted in agony, his heart throbbing painfully, before he barely managed to wrap his arms around his knees and curl into himself.

He trembled in his huddled position as unspeakable pain ripped his soul apart.

 _It's all true then…_

 _They're all gone…_

Tormented moans became miserable sobs.

And miserable sobs gave way to devastated screams as tears poured from his silver eyes down his cheeks.

"Monk Gyatso, I'm sorry! I'm so, so _sorry_ …"

In his anguished sorrow, Aang lost all situational awareness as he blindly writhed about.

Air swirled violently around him, building into the threatening rotation of a tornado. Airbenders, with unlimited access to their element, could summon gales and winds of immense power, with the ability to wreak havoc on a scale like no other if left unchecked.

That was why the philosophy of that ancient – and now extinct – culture was discipline, first and foremost. It was the first rule that the children were taught at the temples. Air was the element most easily accessed, its power most available to summon above all others. But it was essential for that power to be accompanied with responsibility.

Restraint, yet freedom. That was the core of the Airbending arts.

But those teachings had been wiped out with the extermination of the Air Nomads.

Right here, right now, Aang was losing control.

Overwhelming darkness flooded his senses as he drowned in his grief.

The airbender failed to notice a metal tripwire on the far side of the bridge. It was one of many booby traps left by the Fire Navy troops after they had abandoned ship. Right now it was taut and unmoving, but the brutal whirlwinds that emanated from the grieving boy swiftly increased in power, until suddenly…

 _ **Clang!**_

Snapping back to his senses, Aang paled as he felt the ship's ancient machinery rumble back to life.

Time seemed to slow, yet everything happened at once.

Several long moments of loud clanking passed, before a flare rocketed up and out of a tube on the main deck far below. It rose high into the sky above.

At that moment, Aang felt more terrified than he had ever been in his entire life.

 _Oh, spirits…_

* * *

Meanwhile, Sokka had managed to round up several women who weren't busy mothers to assist him in finding Aang.

They had packed their own bags with supplies and were busy gathering near the village entrance, where Sokka was waiting.

Gran-Gran was off to the side, watching them as they prepared to leave. A careworn frown creased her face. Sokka grimaced as he caught sight of her, guilt twisting his insides.

She _had_ warned him.

But once again, he didn't _think_.

"Are we ready?" he asked the group of females, before one of them snapped her head up and abruptly pointed at something.

"Look!" she yelled.

The rest of them turned their heads to see what she was talking about.

That's when they all caught sight of the Fire Navy signal flare.

"Oh no…"

* * *

On a different Fire Navy patrol boat, a young prince had also caught sight of the flare.

He peered through the telescope, tracing the contrail that the rocket had left behind back to its source.

It came from an old shipwreck, one that must have seen action in the early raids on the South Pole.

And through his telescope, the prince also spotted a figure jumping through a hole in the roof of the ship's bridge, before it made a great leap back down to the polar ice and started running.

Only one type of bender had the capacity to pull off such stunts.

The prince turned to a soldier behind him.

"Wake my uncle! Tell him I've found the Avatar!" he ordered, blood surging through his veins at the exhilarating prospect of his hunt finally coming to an end.

As the soldier entered below decks, Prince Zuko returned his gaze to the telescope.

Looking in the direction where the Avatar was running, he zeroed in on a small village.

The Southern Water Tribe.

 _All this time… but now…_

"You've got nowhere to run."

* * *

 **There are 6 boys and 5 girls in the Southern Water Tribe.**

 **From oldest to youngest:  
** **Rikada, Boy, 5  
Denal, Boy, 5  
Iqniq, Girl, 5  
Shila, Girl, 5  
Moshi, Boy, 4  
Mada, Boy, 4  
Valu, Girl, 4  
Etsu, Girl, 4  
Rudda, Girl, 4  
Atti, Boy, 4  
Gedra, Boy, 3**

 **Sokka isn't counted among the boys because he's a teenager. The only teenager.**

* * *

 **PUBLISHED ON = 19 / 02 / 2019**


	6. The Lone Defender

**"Fighting a war tests a soldier's skills. Defending his home tests a soldier's heart."  
–** **Star Wars: The Clone Wars,** _ **ARC Troopers**_

* * *

 **The Lone Defender**

Aang pushed himself to the limit as he sprinted back to the tribe.

They were now all in great danger, and the need to prevent more innocent blood from being spilled was the only thing that kept Aang from succumbing to grief and despair once more.

When he finally arrived back at the village, winded and gasping for breath, the young children were the first to greet him.

"Yay! Aang's back!" one little girl called excitedly to the others. The rest of them all crowded around him, laughing and cheering in innocent joy.

Then Aang saw the adults that stood behind them. The same eyes that once held amazement and awe that very same morning now held looks of disapproval and suspicion – even hatred.

* * *

Kanna watched solemnly as her grandson stepped forward to address the young foreigner.

"You!" snapped Sokka, fear and furious betrayal apparent on his face, "What did you _do_?!"

The question was unavoidable, and Aang knew from the teenager's tone of voice that he was demanding the truth, and nothing else.

Hanging his head, the airbender began to speak, "I found a wrecked Fire Navy ship out on the ice. I went on board to look for proof that your words were true. I found my proof, but then I accidentally set off a booby trap."

"Yeah, that much was clear!" huffed Sokka, folding his arms, "Not even one day here and you've managed to ruin our way of life for good! Now the Fire Nation will be coming our way and if you don't want to be wiped out like the rest of your kind, then pack your things and go!"

"But what about you?" asked Aang, worried about the people he had placed in the crossfire.

"Get _out_!" Sokka yelled with finality, before turning around and storming back into the village.

The other adults turned to follow, the mothers summoning their children to come along with them. The children reluctantly followed.

But the youngest of the girls stayed behind to give Aang a forlorn hug and some final, tearful words.

"Aang, don't go. I'll miss you…"

Kanna watched as the girl's older brother came up to her, gently taking her by the arm.

"Come on, Rudda," he spoke, his tone grave and saddened too, no doubt as unhappy about the situation as his little sister was, "You heard what Sokka said."

The two young children walked past Kanna, hand in hand. Kanna closed her eyes, images of her grandchildren – _both_ of them – at that age flashing across her mind.

 _Katara would have loved to meet him._

Then, she let her old legs carry her towards the boy, the pace of her stride slow with ancient weariness and melancholy.

"It's not your fault," Kanna told the airbender, "My grandson just has a lot of responsibility on his shoulders. He takes out his grievances through his anger. He's just worried about our tribe. And he's worried about you."

She passed to him the rucksack that she held in her hands.

"You have several days' worth of food and water in this bag. Don't worry, there's not a single slice of meat inside," Kanna stated, her brow furrowing in matriarchal concern, "Now you really must be going."

"But what'll you guys do when the Fire Nation comes?" Aang asked, despair and helplessness straining his voice down to a fragile whisper.

"We'll do what we've always done. Fight them as best as we can."

"But you don't stand a _chance_."

"We failed to protect our waterbenders," Kanna sighed sadly, a haunted look darkening her eyes, "Maybe we _deserve_ this fate."

The old woman could see that the boy wanted to tell her otherwise. He wanted to tell her that no one did anything to deserve the cruelty of others, but his own sadness kept his throat sealed shut.

That was probably for the better. With Kanna's mind dwelling on memories of her deceased granddaughter, the airbender's words would have fallen on deaf ears, and what precious time he had available to escape would have been wasted.

The only words he was capable of tearfully choking out were, "I'm sorry."

And then he left to join his bison, who had been previously led out of the village by the tribespeople.

Over the next few minutes, Kanna watched as the boy miserably mounted his companion and they disappeared over the snowy hills and into the icy plains, before she made her way back into the village to prepare for the end.

* * *

Inside a tent, a Water Tribe teenager prepared himself for battle.

This was his time.

All the hopes, dreams, and promises of his life flickered through his memory.

In his younger days, he had been callow and naive enough to look forward to such an opportunity as this. With the simple mind of a child, he had viewed combat as the ultimate way to win glory and honour for himself, his family, and his tribe.

Only later, after the deaths of his mother and sister, and the departure of his father and so many of their numbers, did he come to understand that such prestige and splendour came at a high blood price. Now he looked back with severe disdain on his younger self's eagerness to fight. Because fighting meant that someone's life would come to an end, whether it be their own or the enemy's.

Fighting meant that the situation had gotten desperate, and there was no other chance of escape.

And so he said nothing as he sharpened his blades, donned his armour, and applied war paint to his face. After all physical checks were done, he spent the next few minutes in silence, praying to the spirits for guidance and courage.

But despite his outward display of resolution, inside him guilt gnawed away at his heart.

His fists clenched as he heard a voice that sounded so much like Katara's speak to him in the back of his head.

 _You didn't have to say those things to Aang. You know it wasn't his fault._

That may have been so, and that line of reasoning was sound, but his earliest memories of his baby sister sprung to the forefront of his mind.

* * *

 _The shrill sound of an infant's crying filled the igloo._

 _A young toddler groaned in annoyance as the commotion awoke him from his sleep._

 _His father made his way to pick up the crying infant, while his mother watched her husband and baby daughter fondly._

 _"Silly baby," the little boy muttered sulkily, before his mother's arm curled around him._

 _"Now Sokka, you know babies need a lot of care and attention," Kya said with a gentle smile._

 _"She's loud," he continued to complain._

 _"She needs us," Kya explained patiently, "She needs us to care for her and love her."_

 _Kya paused heavily, before she spoke again._

 _"Katara is our last waterbender, Sokka. As her big brother, you must protect her. Always."_

 _Little Sokka didn't know what a waterbender was, but he had the feeling it was something important. And when his mother spoke with that solemn tone of hers, he felt compelled not to let her down._

* * *

 _But I did let you down. Both of you._

He had failed to protect his mother and sister, and now here he was, asking their spirits to help and watch over him as he went off to battle.

He felt like a traitor. And he had unfairly taken those feelings out on Aang.

Yes, Aang had been desperate, and his recklessness would be their doom. But he was just a child, too young to understand what it meant to kill. Too innocent to have ever known the pain of loss.

Though he had not said it in the kindest words possible, Sokka had ordered the airbender to flee. For his own sake.

It was a small consolation, but at least the guilt of failing to protect Aang wouldn't weigh down his heart anymore.

Now he only had the safety of his tribe to worry about.

* * *

 _A young boy, barely a teenager, watched in sorrow as his father finished loading the last of the war boats._

 _All the men of the Southern Water Tribe were leaving alongside their chief to directly participate in the war._

 _Not wanting to be left behind, the boy had packed the essentials that he needed for travelling, and hurried to where the icecaps met the water's edge._

 _He approached his father, lugging his heavy equipment on his back._

 _"Sokka…" the chieftain sighed as he spotted his young son._

 _"Dad, I'm coming with you," the son insisted again, though there was little defiance in his voice._

 _"You're not old enough to go to war, Sokka, but you are old enough now for me to able to entrust the village to you," Hakoda responded in an attempt to console his son – the only child he had left, now._

 _"I can't do this without you, Dad," said Sokka as he hung his head, letting a few tears fall, "Please don't leave me."_

 _Hakoda dropped to one knee and used a gloved hand to softly wipe away Sokka's tears._

 _"My son, part of being a man is knowing where you're needed most, and for you right now, that's protecting your village. Your home."_

 _"I… I understand, Dad," Sokka finally replied after several heavy moments of hesitation, "I'll miss you, though."_

 _"I'll miss you too, son," Hakoda said, embracing his son tightly._

 _Both father and son held onto each other, wishing this moment would last forever, before eventually the chieftain had to part from the embrace and cast off with the last of the boats._

 _With a steely gaze, the heir of the Southern Water Tribe watched his father's boats depart. When they finally disappeared over the horizon, he turned to go back to the village._

 _His mission. His promise._

* * *

A warm breeze filtered through the opening of the tent flap behind him.

It blew out the small flame of his prayer candle.

That warm breeze brought the black snow.

And the black snow signalled the imminent arrival of a Fire Navy ship.

He stood up, a battle club in his left hand, and his trusty boomerang in his right.

Now was the time.

Without reservation, without hesitation, without doubt, and without fear, Sokka went forth to war.

* * *

The captain's quarters glowed with the flames that emanated from mounted torches.

The exiled prince barely noticed the several crewmen that bustled about the cabin, sharpening gauntlets and blades, and fastening metallic armour plates onto his body. He was only focused on seeking Agni's blessing of grace and guidance in order to fulfil his duty.

He also silently thanked his uncle in his thoughts, deep down feeling certain that the advanced set of firebending katas he had learned just hours earlier would aid him greatly in the upcoming fight.

As his pre-battle meditation drew to a close, a pair of crewmen finished fastening his helmet. Now, everything was ready.

Prince Zuko stood up, ready to face his destiny.

* * *

Nearby, a boy and his bison were sheltering themselves from the freezing weather, resting beside a tall ice formation.

"How could this have happened, Appa?" the boy muttered miserably, not really expecting an answer from his beastly companion.

Sure enough, the bison let out a low, aimless roar in response to his master's question.

"We're the last of our kind," said the boy, now deep in thought, "We need to escape. We need to survive. But at the same time, running away doesn't feel right anymore."

Another low growl from the gentle beast.

"What to do? What to do? What to _do_ …?" the boy fretted, frustration building up at his inability to find an easy answer.

He stood up from where he was sitting on the saddle, pacing back and forth in consternation, before his sharp eyes caught sight of a cloud that was slightly darker than the rest.

Silver orbs traced the thin trails that swirled beneath the dark grey cloud, all the way to the faint outline of moving ship – one that was of the same kind that he had just explored a while ago.

"The Fire Nation is here!"

With that, the emotions that had clogged his judgement evaporated, and clarity surged through his mind once more. The handgrip of his staff twisted, and silk wings sprung out.

"Appa!" he yelled as he jumped off his friend and started flying back to the village, "Wait here until I come back!"

The bison growled obediently in response and made himself comfortable on the snowy ground.

* * *

The prince of the Southern Water Tribe made his way to the top of the defensive wall that encircled his village.

He knew his home's defenses left much to be desired. For one thing, that wall was not even half the height it stood at during his grandmother's youth.

But back then, they had a tribe full of waterbenders.

He turned to address the rest of his people, who had amassed in the main plaza of the village.

"Go! Run while you still can! I will hold them off!"

To his shock, none of them moved.

"We're not going anywhere," one of the elders, Neneh, spoke up.

"You can't stay here! They'll kill you!" Sokka pleaded, trying to reach them through cold, hard logic.

But Gran-Gran stepped forward.

"In this life, we only have each other," she declared, to no one in particular, "If one of us falls, we all fall."

Then she personally addressed her grandson, her old eyes looking steadily at his.

"Sokka. We are with you until the end."

Amongst his gathered people, Sokka heard a child shout.

"No fear, boys!" Rikada rallied the young warriors.

They responded to their leader's battle cry.

"No fear!"

Seeing that they wouldn't be convinced otherwise, Sokka turned back in the direction where the invaders would come from. Despite the fear he felt for his people's safety, a small part of him felt thankful for their unbroken unity in facing what may be certain death alongside him.

He was so distracted while dwelling on these thoughts that he almost missed the ship that had suddenly emerged from the fog, its iron bow heading straight for him.

"Aw crud…!"

Instinctively, he turned and jumped, sliding down the curved inner side of the wall and sprinting as fast as he could to stay clear of the bow as it ploughed effortlessly through the frozen waters. Cracking ice was accompanied by the horrible sounds of screeching metal.

Finally, almost as quickly as it had appeared, the ship came to a stop. Sokka whirled around to face the invading vessel, his battle club held at the ready as he awaited the swarm of Fire Nation soldiers that would soon pour out from the lower decks.

The bow door lowered without warning, and Sokka had to leap back to avoid being crushed. He landed roughly on his back with a cry.

The distinct thuds of boots walking on metal made him snap his head up. He saw the first wave of soldiers marching down the ramp in formation. He noted with some interest that their leader seemed to be just a boy who was barely older than him.

Sokka mentally shoved his intrigue to the side, charging with his club raised high.

Now was the time to act.

When he swung, it was with a strength that would have made his father proud.

But easily, contemptuously, the enemy leader ducked underneath, as if he saw it coming. He spun with such surprising speed, in spite of his metal armour, that Sokka was caught completely off guard when a booted foot connected with his jaw and knocked him off the ramp.

Frightened shouts of concern rang in his ears as his head spun. He picked himself up slowly, spitting blood and snow from his mouth. Snarling out another battle cry, he charged again.

This time he found himself flipped over onto his back. A sharp gasp escaped him as his stomach was stomped on, and he was kicked in the side several times as he crawled clear, his breathing ragged and his limbs unsteady.

Gran-Gran tried to approach him, but she was seized by the enemy leader, who spun her around to face the villagers.

"Tell me where you are hiding him!" the Fire Nation soldier hissed. When he got no reply, he started yelling in rage.

"He'd be about this age!" he barked, gesturing at the old woman, "Master of all the elements! I know you're hiding him – tell me where he is!"

 _"No! Not Gran-Gran!"_ Sokka thought frantically as he forced himself to his feet and tossed his boomerang.

It sailed straight for the soldier's head, forcing him to release Gran-Gran and duck.

As several adults took advantage of the lapse to drag her to safety, one of the children ran to aid Sokka.

"Courage, fellow warrior!" Mada yelled as he handed the teenager a spear. Sokka gave a quick pat on the young boy's back in gratitude, before charging back into the fray once more.

He sidestepped a jet of fire and leaped over another, managing to get within range of the firebender. He swung and thrust his spear, attempting to stab the young soldier and parry any counterattacks. He lasted for a bit longer this time, before the soldier applied a leg sweep on him, and he once more tumbled onto his back.

The spear was taken from his hands and snapped in half.

 _"Oh man…"_ Sokka cringed internally as the firebender approached. The pain was becoming harder to ignore now, and it had taken its toll on his stamina.

Before anything else could happen, the sound of something spiralling in the air became apparent. The firebender looked around suspiciously, but he didn't catch sight of the returning boomerang until it was too late. The resulting blow knocked off his helmet and left him staggering.

Sokka inwardly cheered, but was soon frozen with terror again as flames erupted from the boy's hands.

Holding out both hands in front of him, the firebender prepared to launch a devastating burst of flame at the grounded warrior.

But there was a howl of wind as a flash of yellow rammed into the firebender, knocking him onto his side.

Everyone looked up to see a banking hang-glider, helmed by a bald young boy.

"It's Aang! He came back!" one of the little girls cheered.

The airbender retracted the wings on his staff and dropped to a three-point landing in the snow beside Sokka.

Sokka gaped at him, at a loss for words, before the instinct of a warrior took over him once more.

"Thank you," he finally said.

"You're not going to fight alone," Aang replied, before getting into a ready stance with his stave held out to the side.

Seeing this unfold was the last straw for the enemy leader.

"Soldiers, attack!"

* * *

Zuko watched in begrudging amazement as the airbender leapt into action.

 _So this is the mighty Avatar? He's younger than I expected._

Though young and alone he may have been, the last airbender was every bit as dangerous as Zuko's tutors had told him.

The boy moved as swiftly as the wolves that inhabited this frozen wasteland, summoning blasts of snow with rapid gusts of wind. The soldiers who were foolish enough to approach him were swatted aside like flies.

Knowing that he'd have to get involved himself, Zuko readied himself with his uncle's breathing exercises while the rest of his men tried and failed to defeat the Avatar.

Even though he could've gotten the drop on the Avatar while he was distracted, Zuko refused to let himself slip to that level.

At last it was just the two of them.

The Avatar and the Fire Prince began circling each other warily, eyes locked on each other's bodies, watching for the slightest sign of aggression, waiting for a pre-emptive indication that would betray the intentions of an upcoming attack.

Without taking his eyes off the Fire Prince, the Avatar addressed the Water Tribe warrior behind him.

"This one's mine. Protect your people."

The warrior nodded silently and got clear of the impending clash.

Finally, the prey addressed his hunter.

"Looking for me?"

Zuko hid his surprise at how young the airbender sounded. It was still hard to believe that his ultimate target was only just a boy.

"So… you're the Avatar. The Last Airbender," he drawled, still circling in the snow, "I've spent years preparing for this encounter. Training. Meditating. And you? What about _you_?"

It was a rhetorical question, both of them knew, so the Avatar didn't waste his breath in replying.

"You don't stand a chance," Zuko continued, "You're just a child."

"Yeah? Well you're just a teenager," the Avatar shot back, and with that the battle was on.

A burst of baleful fire met the cold resolve of a blast of air. Seeing that the Avatar was just holding his ground, Zuko pressed forward to gain the advantage. He unleashed a flurry of flaming jabs and kicks, the Avatar deflecting them with efficient, disciplined movements. Ramping up his assault, Zuko traded in speed for power. With less energy spent on acrobatics and elaborate manoeuvres, his strikes carried more weight behind them.

It was a risky move, exchanging agility for strength. But it seemed to be paying off. The Avatar was giving ground, the vicious assault pushing him hard and keeping him off-balance.

A jet of flame was dissipated by a surgically precise windshear. A stronger blast of fire was extinguished by the Avatar whipping up a layer of snow with a gust of air summoned from his stave. Adding a surge of power, Zuko's next devastating strike was barely blocked by the Avatar twirling his staff to deflect the burning energy away with an air current.

Again, Zuko unloaded a power strike. And another. And another.

The airbender retreated, his defenses overwhelmed. The Fire Prince readied his next blast with an increased swiftness, and deliberately aimed it off-kilter.

This time the Avatar was unprepared for the full brunt of the attack. Though he was able to ward it off, the split tails of the flames came close enough to the amassed villagers to crispen their hair and blacken their furs. They cried out in terror.

Their bloodcurdling screams made the Avatar hesitate and drop his guard. But before Zuko could take advantage of the opening, the Avatar swiftly turned back to face him.

"We don't have to fight over this!" the airbender pleaded.

"Oh yes we do!" Zuko retorted as he braced himself for any further attacks, not willing to fall for any tricks.

"I mean it!" the Avatar persisted, urgency and desperation lowering the pitch of his voice. Closing his eyes, the young boy sighed and stepped forward, lowering his staff at his side.

"If I go with you," the airbender asked shakily, unable to stop the tremors that began, "Do you promise to leave the rest of the village alone?"

 _"He's surrendering?"_ thought Zuko in bewildered amazement, _"So attacking the Avatar without care for whoever else gets caught in the way will make him stand down? Interesting…"_

Seeing his chance laid out in front of him on a silver platter, the exiled prince nodded in agreement with the airbender's terms.

* * *

Sokka saw two soldiers come up behind Aang and force his hands into shackles behind his back. The boy made no move to resist. Not even when his staff was taken, nor when he was made to march forward away from the village.

The Avatar's steps were steady, even as he walked towards the jaws of the ship, up the metal ramp, towards what would be certain doom.

But even from the ground level, Sokka could see the way the boy's shoulders shook, the way the airbender hung his head, how all of Aang's resolve had ceased to be.

The Fire Nation troops reached the top of the ramp, their prize in tow. They faced the Avatar towards the defeated village, so they could all see how the world's last hope had finally been taken and extinguished.

As the bow door slowly began to close, Sokka caught a final glimpse of the boy's eyes. No longer did they shine silver with the spark of innocence and youth. Now they were a sombre grey, as bleak as the dying body of an old seal, as dark as the ashes from the aftermath of a blaze.

Within those eyes, there was a desperate, unspoken imploration.

 _Please don't let them take me._

Sokka had seen that look before, in the blue eyes of his little sister, as she was ripped away from her family and home forever.

He could watch no more, without tears threatening to well up. So he lowered his head, his eyes shut tightly in anguish.

Just as it had done on that fateful day six years ago, the bow door slammed shut with a clang of finality.

The ship began reversing outwards, away from the ice, taking with it the Avatar – the last of the airbenders.

And the last hope for peace.

* * *

 **After this depressing read of a chapter, I have some good news.**

 **I think I can crank out two more chapters before university starts next week.**

* * *

 **PUBLISHED ON = 27 / 02 / 2019**


	7. Dark Reality

**"A child stolen is a hope lost."  
– Star Wars: The Clone Wars, **_**Sphere of Influence**_

* * *

 **Dark Reality**

The tears flowed freely now as Aang was marched along the dim red hallways of the ship.

The darkly armoured soldiers became demonic figures in the shadowy brig.

Ahead, the young leader of the raiding team stopped. The group halted behind him.

Aang saw a pudgy, aging man approach them.

"I did it, Uncle Iroh," the leader declared as he stepped forth to greet the older man, "Thanks to your teachings."

The uncle placed a hand on his nephew's shoulder.

"I knew you could do it, Prince Zuko," he replied with a smile, "Now you will be able to return home."

"Indeed," the prince nodded, bowing his head with reverence and joy. He held out the staff in his hand, offering it to his uncle.

"I want you to have this as a trophy, uncle. The airbender's staff, presented as a token of my gratitude."

The old man took the staff carefully in his hands.

"You bring yourself much honour, my nephew. Now, I must turn in for the night."

With that, Iroh took his leave. Zuko turned back to the group.

"To the hold," the prince said.

A little further along, they finally arrived at a cell which looked like it had been prepared to restrain an unusually powerful bender. Someone like an airbender – or more precisely, the Avatar. Thick, heavy chains hung from the iron walls. There was an upper pair for shackling the arms, and a lower pair for securing the legs.

No words were spoken as Aang let the soldiers cuff his wrists and ankles. The young prince stood off to the side, silently observing the process.

After they were finished, the soldiers filed out of the room, leaving only Aang and the prince staring at each other.

Through his tears, Aang saw the stark indifference in the golden eyes of his captor. It made him shiver. The metal which rubbed painfully against his wrists felt even icier, and despite the flaming torches around him, Aang felt cold. The chill in his heart became unbearable, and he felt his legs going limp. Finally, he let the heavy weight of the chains drag him to the floor.

He was still crying, and the tears wouldn't stop falling.

Raising his head, he managed to notice a glimmer of uneasiness whisk across the prince's face, before the older boy forced a mask of detachment back on.

 _Maybe he's not as cruel as I thought._

Trying to find his voice, the airbender finally managed to form words, though they were steeped with tears and choked with despair.

"Is… is it true?" Aang asked the teenager, somehow knowing that the prince would answer with honesty, "Did your nation kill my people?"

* * *

Zuko straightened at the question.

The tortured look in the boy's eyes made some small part inside of him uncomfortable at the hopelessness displayed before him.

Somehow, for whatever reason, he found himself wishing that he could deny the truth. To explain it away as some absurd, silly, morbid myth – one that was created to keep misbehaving children in line. But he found no honour in telling such a lie.

"Yes," he finally answered, "We did."

On the floor, the younger boy wilted even more. Small sobs escaped him, his shoulders wracked with a terrible burden.

"W-Why?" the airbender managed to stammer out, "Why?!"

Something inside Zuko almost broke at the pitiful cries the child emanated. He steeled himself before replying, "Your people were a threat to the peace of the world. We had to remove them."

"How?" the Avatar rasped, begging for answers too complex for him to understand. Once more, Zuko saw how _young_ the ultimate enemy of the Fire Nation was. He didn't get a chance to reply though, before the Avatar continued.

"You didn't have to! We're pacifists!"

"You were going to attack us–"

"We're _pacifists_!" the Avatar screamed, in frustration and overwhelming anguish. Violent gusts began to swirl around him, rattling his chains and forcing Zuko to plant himself to be able to stand firm.

The prince was afraid that the gale would become too great for the ship's structure to handle. But as quickly as the violent tempest had begun, the Avatar's energy had withered, and he sagged back against the wall, hugging his knees close to his chest.

"We _were_ pacifists…"

The screaming and the wind blasts had subsided for now, replaced with ragged, uneven breaths and broken tears once more.

Zuko made his way to the exit, unable to watch anymore. Some long-forgotten fraternal instinct had arisen, and deep down he desired the opportunity to comfort the despairing child, for reasons he couldn't justify to himself.

 _You can't. He's still the enemy._

Even so, he paused at the metal doorway to look back.

The Avatar was curled up in a fetal position. Quiet sobs escaped from him. Down in the hold, the only noises that could be heard were the low rumbling of the ship's engines alongside his weeping. The near-silence and the dim light of the torches only punctuated the soft sounds of the child's crying.

Enemy or not, it was almost heartbreaking to listen to.

 _No! Don't think those thoughts! Only traitors think like that._

Before he could doubt himself any further, Zuko shut the cell door, leaving the Avatar to drown in his grief.

He made his way to his quarters, his mind foggy, his heart weary, and his soul very much in need of rest.

* * *

Sokka stared at the ocean tide.

The salt water lapped at the broken edges where the ship had split the ice.

His mind was hazy with surreal disbelief.

In under ten minutes, he had just found out that the airbender boy he had met yesterday was the Avatar.

 _The Avatar._

The saviour of the world had come back to them.

And soon after that, he had been led away in chains.

Sometimes, Sokka just wished that things were simpler.

He wished his father was here. He wished his mother was here. He wished his sister was here. He wanted to go back in time and save everyone dear to him that he couldn't save.

And yes, that included the Avatar.

 _Aang. His name is Aang._

Everything was hopeless now. The last hope for victory over the Fire Nation had been taken. The last light for peace had been extinguished.

And yet…

 _And yet…_

And yet, there was something inside of him that kept him standing tall with purpose. Something inside him told him to keep thinking. Keep striving. Keep fighting. Keep believing.

So lost was he in his thoughts that he never noticed his grandmother approach from behind.

"Sokka…?"

"I'm going after him," the words tumbled out of his mouth. Even though he hadn't thought about it, that the sentence had formed itself out of impassioned intuition, he wasn't surprised at himself. In fact, he even welcomed the feeling of a new conviction.

"Out _there_? To the _Fire Nation_?" Gran-Gran asked with increasing incredulity.

"If I have to, then yes," Sokka replied again on instinct.

"That's _crazy_ ," Gran-Gran shot back, her tone similar to the one she used when scolding him for a stupid stunt, "They'll kill you! And that's assuming you'll even survive crossing the sea!"

She turned away from him angrily.

"That's a foolish idea, and you know it, child."

"But what about the Avatar? We can't just leave him!" Sokka persisted.

"What can we _do_? They've captured him. There's no chance left for any of us."

"As long as Aang is alive, there's still a chance!" declared Sokka, looking back towards the horizon, "I'm going, Gran-Gran. And you can't stop me."

His grandmother turned back to face him, and he unflinchingly met her glare with his own.

"You're _not_ going."

"I am."

"No, you're _not_."

"I have to."

"No!"

"I have to!"

"NO!"

"Why _can't_ I go?!" yelled Sokka, frustrated at getting into a screaming match with the only family he had left. Feelings of shame and foolishness at showing defiance to an elder also welled up within him, but his heart still told him not to back down. Somehow, he still knew that leaving to rescue the Avatar was the _right_ decision.

"Why do you have to?!" snapped Kanna as she demanded answers, "Why?! We've already lost so many of our people – our _family_! Your mother! Your sister! My husband…! My _son_ …"

Gran-Gran was crumbling. And Sokka knew it.

She had been strong for her son, because Hakoda had needed it. She had been a fountain of wisdom when all the men had left, for the sake of the women, the children, and the elderly who had been left behind. She had been a stronghold for their sanity, a bastion for their morale, rallying them, keeping them going even as their spirits cracked and splintered over the years.

But with the capture of the Avatar, their world had all but shattered. And that seemed to be the final nail in the coffin. Gran-Gran's heart, which had bled so much for so long, was now on the verge of completely breaking.

Acting quickly, Sokka wrapped his grandmother in a tight embrace. She pulled her head back a little so she could look up at his face.

"Please just tell me why," she asked, her voice a fragile whisper, "Why do you have to go?"

"Because… it's what Katara would want," Sokka said quietly, looking down in contemplation, "It's what Katara would do."

* * *

A moment of silence passed as Kanna remembered.

Remembered how precious it was to feel the sweet sensation of long-forgotten hope return to the tribe when it was announced that her infant granddaughter was a waterbender.

She remembered the day when her son had finally stepped up and taken on his role as chieftain. She had handed over the mantle of leadership willingly, proud to have her son surpass her. He had so much in common with his father. There was so much of her late husband in him, it had almost felt like things had gone back to the way they once were.

She remembered how she had carved her own path in life. All of her decisions, all of her choices – they were her own. And all of it had led her to this moment.

Now, it was her grandson who was about to embark down his own path, on his own journey. Just as all children eventually must. She couldn't protect him forever. She couldn't keep him here forever. That was like trying to resist the ocean tides, or trying to stop the cycles of the moon.

Plainly put, it was an impossibility. And it simply would not do.

Her grandson would be going, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

But still…

"Do I have to lose you too?" she finally asked, her old voice strained with heartbreak and unbearable sorrow.

"You're not losing me, Gran-Gran," Sokka promised the old woman, "You just have to let me go."

Kanna contemplated this for several moments, before she shook her head with a sad smile.

"You've grown up to be a wise man, my little warrior," she said as she stepped back, giving him his freedom, "Your father would be proud of you. So proud."

"Thank you, Gran-Gran," Sokka replied, his voice cracking a little despite his hushed tone.

"But you shall leave tomorrow," Kanna added.

"What? Why?"

"The sun is setting, Sokka. It is dangerous to navigate the ocean alone, especially in the dark," Kanna continued, pausing before she spoke once more, "And I want to sleep beside my grandson one last time, in case we never see each other again."

As soon as she had said that, he was hugging her tightly again.

"We'll see each other again, Gran-Gran. I promise," he muttered into her shoulder. She felt a warm wetness on her furs, and she knew that he was crying now too.

After a few moments, he stepped back and gave a small nod.

"Alright. One more night with my tribe. And then I'll be off."

Sokka took his grandmother's hand, and they walked back to their tent together.

"I'll miss you," said Sokka, when they were finally inside the privacy of their own home, "I'll miss all of you."

"And we'll miss you," Kanna replied, as she sat down with her knitting and watched him prepare.

There was a lot to do, and every minute felt like an hour.

It was both bitter and sweet.

Time was something that could never be frozen – the inevitability of her grandson leaving was getting ever closer with each passing second.

The time they had left together was invaluably precious. That's why Kanna treasured every second of it. Because every moment that passed was a reminder of the setting sun, the diminishing light, and their dwindling time.

But for everything lost, there is also something gained.

Her little warrior was growing up. Making the leap into the unknown. He was more than ready to lay down his life for others.

In truth, he was more man than boy now.

Kanna shook her head with a small, resigned smile as she let her thoughts drift away, focusing only on her knitting, and the young man who continued to pack in front of her.

 _Take care, my dear boy._

* * *

Night eventually came, and they soon huddled up under the covers after a few prayers.

The full moon was a poignantly beautiful sight.

Despite the tragedies and the tribulations of today and from years gone by, one by one, the souls of the Southern Water Tribe went to sleep.

They dreamt of family and friends who were no longer there. Their heavy hearts dwelt on the recent events of the present. But they also saw visions of hope. Glimpses of the future – one that carried a distant promise to be brighter and better than the dark reality they were trapped in now.

They saw a light in their dreams, and they followed it.

High above in the night sky, the full moon glowed brightly. The stars twinkled and shimmered. A tender breeze began to blow, and snowflakes gently started to fall.

* * *

 **Finally got this done. Good of myself to do so.**

 **And the next chapter should hopefully be up soon.**

* * *

 **PUBLISHED ON = 07 / 03 / 2019**


	8. Interlude: The Long Night

**"Hope is born when all is forlorn."  
– John Tolkien**

* * *

 **Interlude: The Long Night**

 _Night has fallen upon the world._

In a cage hanging inside a Fire Nation prison, a young girl suffers in silence.

Too weak to even speak, too hurt to believe anymore.

Misery and unbearable heat are the only things she knows.

* * *

In the brig of a patrol boat, the Avatar, only a mere child himself, curls into a ball despite his chains and weeps.

He cries over the deaths of masters he has revered, of teachers who were his parents in all but name, of friends who had been the only brothers and sisters that he had ever known in his short life.

All of them lost to the cruelty of tyrants and to the passing of time.

Tears are shed for every name lost to the wind.

* * *

On the upper levels of the boat, an old uncle finishes counting up his blessings, and starts to reflect on his losses.

He has led a good life, but he often just stood by while cruel and merciless actions were carried out by his nation towards unfortunate and undeserving victims.

He has tried to be merciful and compassionate, a light in the darkness of unending war, but that never made up for the atrocities he and his people committed. No amount of remorse will ever be enough while his country continues to carry out horrendous crimes against humanity.

And finally, he has tried his best to improve himself, to seek out enlightenment, and to pass his wisdom onto others.

But his nation refuses to heed his words. His own family refuses to listen.

All except for one.

And the old uncle promises himself that he will never stop being the voice of peace until his dying day.

He will never give up on his nephew.

And he will not stand by and watch anymore as the world burns to ashes around him.

* * *

In a tent pitched up on the icy grounds of the Southern Water Tribe, an old woman holds her grandson close as he sleeps.

His head lies close to her heart, just as it had when she held his newborn body in her arms, long ago.

That boy is the only remnant she has of her son, who is off somewhere, fighting in the war. The war which has cost everyone dearly.

Her husband.

Her daughter-in-law.

Her granddaughter…

She has lost a lot of family to this war.

And right now, this boy is all she has left.

But destiny has called him, and his fate has been decided.

Like the resurrected Avatar, her grandson now has a duty to the world.

And soon, she will have to let him go.

* * *

 _But even in the deepest black of night, there are those who dream of dawn._

On a small, isolated island in the South Sea, a brave band of warriors live and train together, awaiting the day that they will be called off to fight in the war against the Fire Nation.

Their bonds have been tested through blood and death, but ultimately have proven to be unbreakable.

They know each other like sisters.

Every strength. Every weakness.

Every talent. And every shortcoming.

So intimate is their knowledge of one another, that it would be an understatement to merely call them a team.

They're a family. One more family out of thousands that the Fire Nation has hurt in the past.

But one day, they will set out to avenge the brethren that they've lost.

They are more than ready.

* * *

Somewhere off the shores of the Earth Kingdom, on a battered but enduring sailboat, a chieftain leads his men in the defense of their allies.

He has not seen home in two years.

But aside from contributing to the war effort, there is a deeper purpose behind his voyage.

His tribe may have given up hope, but deep down he still believes that his youngest child – his only daughter – is somewhere out there. Alive.

And long ago, he made a vow – he is going to find her.

And bring her home.

* * *

On the deck of a Fire Nation boat, a young prince sails towards home, his mission complete.

His heart is filled with hope for the first time in three years.

But in the back of his mind, he can't suppress the doubt, can't put down the thought that he's made a huge mistake.

* * *

In the city of Gaoling, a blind young earthbender continues to hone her skill in a secret, underground fighting ring.

She was raised in wealth, sheltered and withdrawn. Never meant to live her life to the fullest. Never destined to do anything more than live an obedient and placid existence.

But she promised herself that one day, she would break free from these gilded confines. That one day, she would fight in the war, and truly make a difference in the world.

* * *

Somewhere along the edges of the South Pole, in the early hours of the morning, a young boy gathers what little belongings he has, and places them in a sack inside his canoe.

The rest of his small tribe is there to see him off, his grandmother watching with tears in her eyes as the ocean takes him away.

His mission is certain to be hopeless. But his resolve will not be broken.

The world waits in darkness as he paddles out further to sea, using the stars as his guide.

He will not see home again for a very long time.

* * *

 **Sorry for the long wait.**

 **Life just got hectic for the past few weeks, but I'm back!**

* * *

 **PUBLISHED ON = 25 / 03 / 2019**


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